


Heat: Remixes & B-Sides

by JustAnotherSnakeCult



Series: The Heat Chronicles [2]
Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Porn, Porn with Feelings, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:54:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 33,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29282568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAnotherSnakeCult/pseuds/JustAnotherSnakeCult
Summary: Oh, hey, y’all! I guess this is just what I do now. -shrug-Have some things that fit into the context of Heat: alternative takes, extended/deleted scenes, remixes, b-sides, fan requests, whatever!If you haven’t read Heat, please do so if you like. It’s a CP2077 twist on the sex pollen trope; you don’t have to have read it to enjoy these, but some small details will make more sense if you take the time.TL; DR facts: V has been injected with Heat, a roofie-like drug with long-term effects on libido and inhibitions; the wounds change in appearance if the drug is active in her system; reactions can be prompted by from emotional spikes, adrenaline rushes, and synthetic chemical ingestion; she has pills from Vik that help with symptoms but also partially block out Johnny, and caffeine and cold showers help; she has a pre-recorded video expressing her enthusiastic consent if she’s in a compromising situation (enthusiastic consent is hot, friends).Chapters 1-3: Goro Remix Pts. 1-3Chapter 4: B-Side: PlacideChapters 5-7: Saul's Extended Remix 1-3Chapter 8: B-Side: Vik's Treatment ReduxChapters 9-11: Dum Dum Redux Pts. 1-3Chapters 12-14: Johnny Redux Pts. 1-3
Relationships: Dum Dum/V (Cyberpunk 2077), Goro Takemura & V, Goro Takemura/V, Johnny Silverhand & V, Johnny Silverhand/V, Placide/Female V (Cyberpunk 2077), Placide/V (Cyberpunk 2077), Saul Bright/V, V & Viktor Vector, V/Viktor Vector
Series: The Heat Chronicles [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2150406
Comments: 355
Kudos: 243





	1. The Ronin/Goro’s Assistance Remix Pt. 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Heat](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29035959) by [JustAnotherSnakeCult](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAnotherSnakeCult/pseuds/JustAnotherSnakeCult). 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back at it, chooms! -cracks knuckles- Picking some low-hanging fruit as a warm-up.
> 
> Suggested listening: "I Put A Spell On You," Nina Simone

**TAKEMURA [03:43 PM]:**

_ V. Do you still wish to continue your mentorship this evening? _

“Mother _ fucker _ ,” V whispered to herself. She was lying on her bed and had almost escaped into the retreat of a lazy afternoon nap when her phone had pinged. She had spent most of the day pounding down lattes like they were water until her hands and feet were jittering uncontrollably, until the King of Excess living in her head suggested she cut herself off. 

“Huh? What’d I do?” Johnny propped himself up on an elbow from where he had been reclining next to her, digital cigarette smoke mingling with shafts of sunshine from the window. 

“Not you, for fuckin’ once. I’m supposed to train with Goro tonight, and my brain feels mushier than a Buck-A-Slice left out in the rain.” A still-trembling hand rubbed her eyes with frustration.

“Good. You don’t need to learn from that corpo cunt, anyway.”

“Yeah, I know how you feel, Johnny,” she sighed. Their feelings on the exiled Arasaka bodyguard differed greatly. Johnny couldn’t see past his affiliation; V had been suspicious at first too, but had quickly been swayed by Takemura’s superior analytical mind, his meticulousness, his quiet resolve, and, when he chose to deploy it, his razor-sharp wit and quick tongue. The way his glimmering silver optics studying her made her feel was not relevant.  _ Nope. Not in the slightest. _

“Ugh. Fuckin’ nasty, V.” She did not bother to dignify her digital ghost with a response. Goro had agreed to, after a lot of badgering and pleading, to help V gain confidence in more nuanced, close-combat situations, reading rooms and body language, and “other necessary skills you are sorely lacking,” as he had so kindly put it.

**V [03:45 PM]:**

_ Definitely. Where this time? _

**TAKEMURA [03:46 PM]:**

_ Your apartment should be sufficient for our needs. _

**TAKEMURA [03:46 PM]:**

_ Are you in possession of a basic metal folding chair? _

_ Okay, this is getting a little weird. _ They had never needed equipment before; hand-to-hand combat didn’t require any beyond…well, hands. They had also always met somewhere far more spacious than her apartment: a parking garage, abandoned lots, basketball courts.

**V [03:47 PM]:**

_ I can borrow one from Wilson. Goro, what are we doing? _

_ Wrestling? Gonna teach me to throw the People’s Elbow? : P _

**TAKEMURA [03:48 PM]:**

_ What is a People’s Elbow? I am unfamiliar with this _

_ school of combat. _

**V [03:49 PM]:**

_ It’s…you know what, it’s not important. _

_ Anything else special to do? _

**TAKEMURA [03:50 PM]:**

_ Yes. Do not wear your normal clothing for sparring. _

**TAKEMURA [03:50 PM]:**

_ Please dress in a manner appropriate for—what is _

_ the phrase— a hot date. _

V sat bolt upright in bed.  _ This is definitely weird.  _ “Goro said I needed to dress for a date for training tonight.”

A disgusted scoff sounded from behind her. “ _ Jesus.  _ You better be takin’ a double dose of those magic fuckin’ pills if you’re gonna let corpo trash tap that beautiful ass, doll.”

“Thank you, but shut it.” She shook her head slightly, trying to clear the red haze that had been pushing at the edges of her vision all day long. Was it hot in here?

**V [03:51 PM]:**

_ If I ask you why, are you going to tell me? _

**TAKEMURA [03:52 PM]:**

_ Certainly not. I will see you at 8 PM sharp. _

\---

“Nah, wear the other one. I’m tellin’ you he’s a legs man.” V rolled her eyes so hard she thought they might get stuck, but still shimmied out of the low-cut top and leather pants she had put on, pulling the long dress back over her head. It was a far simpler style than what she would normally choose for the “occasion,” but both sides of the skirt were split up to the hip. They made wearing panties a nonstarter. Just the thought of going commando made her skin prickle hotly. She checked her wrists: they were slightly pink and tender, but nothing extreme. 

“Johnny, what makes you think you know what Goro likes? You are literally the opposite of each other. Rockerboy, corpo. Asshole, gentleman. Dead, alive.” 

“Fuck you. Not really gonna let ‘im poke ya, are you, V?” There wasn’t any anger in his voice, continuing to lean back in the metal chair she had nicked from Wilson earlier that evening. V stuffed all of her discarded options in the bottom of her wardrobe cabinet, sliding the door shut. She was pretty sure dressing her apartment for a hot date included hiding all of her junk, so she shuffled around the apartment straightening piles of screamsheets, straightening her shelves, and tucking away toiletries in the bathroom.

“It’s just the training, Johnny, Christ. He’s not actually going to seduce me. I’m gonna take the pills now.” She rattled two red pills out of the bottle Vik had given her, leaning to slurp some water out of the faucet, but getting caught at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was down, softly waved, but  _ maybe up is better? _ She pushed some of it up off her neck as she popped the medicine.

“Wear it down,” Johnny suggested by way of a goodbye. “Makes you look more like a chick and less like a murder machine.” The backhanded compliment made her eyebrows furrow, but when she emerged back into the main room, he had disappeared behind the heavy red curtain. 

Not a second too soon: 7:59 PM. There was a knock at the door: three precise, sharp raps. V would know who it was even if they didn’t have an appointment.

“Coming!” She shoved one of her feet into the only pair of heels she owned, a pair of black stilettos that she knew would be pinching her toes terribly within 10 minutes.  _ The better to keep focus with, then.  _ She could feel the soft buzzing in the back of her brain held at bay by the blockers.

She was still wiggling one foot in as she slid the door open, a leg hanging out of her dress from the calf downward. “Hey, Goro—”

When she tilted her head up, the way he was looking at her made her breath catch in her throat. His eyes were trained on her leg with the same intensity she had seen him watch enemies with. She straightened slowly and his gaze followed. “V.”

Whatever game was afoot, Goro was already playing, and it was clear he aimed to win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and constructive feedback always welcome. :D
> 
> Come hang out with me on Tumblr! Same handle, or check out #cp2077thotsociety. xD


	2. The Ronin/Goro’s Assistance Remix Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand ... it's a lot of dialogue. I am who I am. xD
> 
> Suggested listening: "To Be Alone," Hozier
> 
> TW: there's a slap. Is that a thing I need to TW about? Better safe than sorry.

V might’ve left him standing there all night long if he hadn’t cleared his throat quietly. 

“Oh, shit,” she started at the noise, stepping to one side. “Come on in.” Goro inclined his head slightly and came into her apartment, and immediately she could see his eyes flicking to each corner of the room, over the furniture, along the window, evaluating weaknesses and searching for threats. Maybe one day she’d have as keen an eye as he did, but she suspected that was the kind of thing that only came with years of practice.

“Here, let me take your coat,” she offered. Had she ever offered to take anyone’s coat before in her life? He turned his head toward her with an eyebrow slightly raised in surprise, even as he shrugged the jacket off his shoulders and passed it to her;  _ guess not, then. _ There was a moment of internal panic—she couldn’t get into her closet right now without a tsunami of laundry spilling out—before she strode over to the armory, sliding the door open and hooking the coat carefully onto a peg on the wall.

“Impressive.” V almost jumped right out of her skin when she heard his voice right over her shoulder; she hadn’t even heard him walk over. 

“Thanks. Not all parts of my life are a hot mess, see?”

“A truly shocking revelation.” She heard the smirk in his voice and tried to elbow him in the ribs, but he had already moved away from her.

“Are you gonna be doing sneaky ninja shit all night long, Goro? Because I’m already at a disadvantage dressed like this.” She turned to face him. He wasn’t dressed any differently than normal: a crisp, white button down with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow; black pants and belt; dark shoes. V couldn’t remember seeing him in anything else, with the exception of a blazer when she was shoved into Yorinobu Arasaka’s AV hidey-hole. “You gonna tell me what’s going on now?”

“Tonight, I shall instruct you in one of the subtlest interrogation techniques, but also one of the most powerful: seduction.” He circled the metal chair she had acquired. “Yes, this will do.”

_ What did he just say? _ V stared at him, unaware that her mouth had fallen open in surprise.  _ Great. Fuckin’ preem.  _ Of course this is what they would be doing on a night when she was already wound tighter than an eight-day clock. 

“‘Preciate it, Goro, but I’m not bad at pullin’ tail when I put my mind to it.” She felt so goddamn warm.  _ Should’ve worn your hair up. _

He  _ tsk’ _ d impatiently as he produced a length of synthsilk cord from his pocket. “I am not referring to ‘pulling tail,’ V.” He sat in the chair, its legs creaking slightly as he settled his weight and held the cord out to her. “Bind my hands.”

He may as well have asked her to ride a unicycle while juggling DB5s. She stared at him dumbly for a long moment before snapping into action, taking the cord from his hands and crouching behind where he was seated as he continued to explain. “I refer to the ability to bend anyone to your will with the barest of touches, the quietest of whispers, the subtlest of movements, the slightest of insinuations. Skills necessary for high levels of intrigue and espionage, where you might attend a function wearing an outfit such as the one I asked you to don.”

“I knew what you meant, Goro,” V muttered more to herself than to him, crossing his wrists together and looping the tie over and through and back again until the entire length was trapping him in an infinity of woven silk, knotting it firmly between his hands. “Is that okay?”

“Perfectly sufficient,” he replied without even testing the bond.  _ Motherfucker could probably bust out of it in a second _ . She circled to stand in front of him, and the sight of him bound in a chair in front of her, at her mercy, in theory if not in actual practice, made V’s mouth go dry. She tried to wet her lips with only limited success.

Goro’s serious visage relaxed just slightly as he took in the sight of her standing before him, soft and feminine as opposed to hard and tactical. “You do look quite lovely, V.”

_ He’s trying to kill me.  _ “Thanks, choom. You’re not so bad yourself.” A corner of his mouth twitched upward, a knowing grin threatening to expose itself. “Uh… if we’re gonna do this, I need to tell you something.”

She plowed on without waiting for his go-ahead. “I’ve got a, well, sort of situation going on right now.”

The immediate concern in his face twisted her gut a little, in the best way. “What is it, V?” Are you well?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna be fine. It’s … here, watch this. It’s easier than trying to explain.” She beamed him the video she had recorded in Vik’s clinic and watched his optics glow with the playback. Her heels clacked on the floor as she paced the room nervously; a quick glance at her wrists showed that delicate pink whorls had started to creep up onto the palms of her hands.  _ Just fuckin’ preem. _

She wasn’t sure how long she had been pacing before Goro finally spoke. “V.” It was low and rumbly, and it stopped her mid-stride. “We do not need to continue if this will be too uncomfortable, although I believe there is merit in the exercise even if you are …compromised. If you wish to stop, you can say the words ‘cherry blossom’ and the activity can cease immediately.” 

“No, it’ll be fine; just wanted you to know in case I’m suddenly begging you to bury your head between my legs,” she offered with a half-smile. It was a joke, a warning shot, and a reconnaissance drone all in one; subtle though it was, she saw his breath hitch slightly.  _ Noted. _

“Very well. Now, think on what you know about me.”  _ Precious little, really _ . “Leverage that knowledge to make  _ me _ speak the words ‘cherry blossom.’” He leveled his silvery gaze at her. “Make me want you.” A bolt of heat shot through her, launched from his eyes, and sank deep into her center.

It would be a challenge on the best of days, let alone when her mind was marinated in a chemical designed to undo her. V squared her shoulders and straightened, stalking toward Goro one careful step at a time, forcing his eyes to see the flashes of leg that appeared with every stride. He immediately seemed to zero in on them as she drew to a stop in between the spread of his thighs on the chair, reaching a hand under his chin and tilting his gaze up to meet her own. His stubble poked at the tender skin of her palm. She was sure the heat of her hand was ridiculous on his face.

“Well,” V said, more to herself than him. “Your hands and body are a weapon, wielded by Arasaka for decades. Every touch has been violence, so maybe tenderness is the answer.” She released his jaw, brushing her knuckles feather-lightly along his cheek and jaw, watching carefully for any tells. She felt Goro’s breath exhale hot onto her hand, blinking up at her impassively. “No?”

She stepped back, her hand not leaving his face as she slowly circled to his side, fingertips trailing back towards his ear along the seam of where his cybernetics met warm skin.  _ Did he just shudder? _ She curled her fingers slightly as she paused directly behind him, fingernails scraping over the shell and folds of cartilage of his ear.

_ That was definitely a shudder. _

“Or maybe it’s about control,” she pondered, seeing the footrest on the back legs of the chair and wedging a heel onto it, shifting her skirt and slotting her calf into his captive hands. She saw his fingers twitch with the effort of remaining unclenched. She bent over at the waist, bringing her face close to her ear to replace her hand. She lingered on her words with “L”s, letting the tip of her tongue catch on his skin sometimes. “You’re always the master of self-discipline, denying your own desires for the sake of others.”

V’s hands had slid around Goro’s shoulders, firm and tense, to the front of his chest, boldly popping open a button on his shirt, and then another; she inched one palm into the gap between the fabric, past the edge of his cybernetics and onto the smooth skin of his chest. She could feel the rise and fall of his chest now, even but quickened, and feel the thrum of his heart underneath his ribcage. His thumb on her leg had given into the temptation of stroking small circles into her skin. “Do you want to relinquish control, Goro? Is that it? Have someone else take care of you?” She felt a squeeze on her calf, but still only silence (although she thought it might be more tortured now). 

_ Hmmm. _ They stayed like that for a long minute, V idly tracing patterns into his skin while she pondered her next move. She could barely hear her own thoughts over the blood thundering in her ears; she felt drunk on this…whatever was happening right now.  _ Training, I guess. Pretending I have control even though it’s still him. _

That was it.

“Oh. Oh!” Her surprise and delight at at the realization tumbled out of her lips, making Goro tilt his head toward her just slightly. She pressed her advantage, laying her lips flush against his ear and speaking hotly into it, her hands withdrawing from his shirt to trail down his arms.

“It’s not about giving up control for you,” she murmured, tugging exaggeratedly on the knot she had tied minutes earlier around his hands, making it a point to demonstrate she was freeing him although she didn’t completely release his bonds. She felt him shift experimentally in the chair to confirm that she had just, in fact, allowed her dangerous prisoner the capacity to actually be dangerous.

“What is it about then, V?” The rumble vibrated through his jaw and into her lips against her ear. He sounded breathless.  _ Hot damn, I’m gonna win _ . She snaked a hand back up his arm one final time, this time urging her fingers up into the confines of his bun, curling into the hair against his scalp. She felt him suck in a breath through his teeth. _ Got him. _

“It’s about losing it,” she said, giving his strands a sharp tug.

“ _ Cherry blossom.”  _ Before she could even grin smugly, Goro’s hands had shaken free of the cord she had loosened and grabbed her roughly by her upper arms, standing and slinging V into the seat where he had just been, the metal still warm from his body. Another blip and he was securing her wrists, and she could feel from the pressure alone that the binding was far firmer than the one she had used on him.

They were at a stand-off for the second time this evening. V could feel the flush on her skin and the static in the air. Goro looked, unsurprisingly, barely worse for the wear, but she did not miss his bright eyes and the way his pants’ fabric was strained at the crotch. She was practically ogling when she heard words that snapped her back to a hazy, red reality.

“My turn.”

“Jesus, okay, just give me—”

His voice was hard as steel. “I shall not, nor would anyone attempting to use their sexual wiles to compromise you.”

V couldn’t help but snort a little. “Goro, no one has used the word ‘wiles’ since 2037.” He stared at her in silent reprimand. His eyes were dark, pupils dilated so only the tiniest glint of silver was visible; he was evaluating her unwaveringly, and V shifted in her seat to try and relieve the pressure both from his gaze and between her thighs.

She was the prey now, and she was pretty sure she  _ wanted  _ to be caught.

Her eyes fluttered closed and she sucked in some deep breaths, exhaling slowly in a desperate attempt to calm her thundering heart. When they opened again, he was still studying her, and V’s cockiness got the better of her. Her eyes met his and held them as her knees slowly drifted apart, lower legs and generous slivers of thigh peeking out from the slits in her skirt and settling outside of them, the center panel still providing her modesty. Whatever that meant right now. Goro was across the room before she had time to register his eyes narrowing at her; he snatched up a handful of her hair so tightly it made V’s eyes prickle with tears, going wide and glassy. He yanked her head back, forcing her mouth to fall open with a tiny whine of pain. 

“Quiet.” Her eyebrows furrowed, although whether it was at his unusually harsh request or the pangs of want shooting through her belly and thighs, she wasn’t sure.

“I didn’t—”

Another rough yank. “I said quiet.” His open palm struck her across the cheek, just hard enough to rattle her a bit. Her head spun from the shock of the blow, and she felt arousal flood into her cunt. _ Christ, I’m going to slide off this fuckin’ chair. _

Her mouth was unquestionably hanging open now, slack-jawed with surprise and desire. She desperately wanted to see what would happen if she spoke again but resisted the urge by digging her fingernails deep into the skin of her palms, managing to say nothing.

“Good girl.” Goro’s grip loosened on her hair slightly and V was grateful he couldn’t see the involuntary way her eyes had rolled into her head when he said that. Her logical brain was slowly being eaten up by the thick, red haze of Heat; her apartment had taken on a rosy cast. She felt his fingers release her mane, but it was only a fleeting moment’s respite before he had her jaw in his crushing grip, forcing her to look him in the eyes again.

“I see that you are under the false impression that you have some power in this situation.” V felt his one of his knees knock roughly against her own, pushing her thighs open even further, referencing her earlier impertinence. Her blood thundered in her ears; the only things in her orbit were his hand on her face and the fact that she hadn’t worn any goddamn skivvies. She felt her chin tilt downward; he dragged her gaze down with him as he knelt between her open legs.  _ Christ alive.  _ She was pretty sure she was panting.  _ So professional. _

Goro let go of her chin then, in exchange for hiking one of her knees up and onto his shoulder. The skirt shifted as her leg bent, and although she was still covered, there was no question now that she was bare beneath her dress. He raised an impish eyebrow at her as he leaned to press his open lips into the skin of her leg, working them slowly upward toward her inner thigh.

“Presumptive of you, was it not?” he muttered against her flesh. Her mouth opened, closed, opened again. Replying felt like a trap with a big neon sign over it, flashing “FALL HERE”. 

A stinging nip on her thigh, and another rush of warmth in between her legs, which were starting to quake. “Answer me, you brat.”

“Ican’twiththedresstheyshowGoroareyousurethisisstilltrainingbecauseIamabouttolosemyshit—”

“Say ‘cherry blossom’ and it will not be.” Another bite, this one deeper and harder. V’s eyelids fluttered closed.

“ _ Fuck,  _ okay, cherry blossom!” She felt his mouth leave her leg but knew no more, her eyes shut tight while her breath heaved in and out of her chest. Her nerves were on fire. She was sure she was sweating. She could feel the cold air of the apartment tickling at her cunt. 

It was several more moments before she realized that Goro had not moved from where he was between her knees. They had never actually used a safe word in training before, but he had always promised to immediately disengage if she ever did.

“V.”

“Yeah.” Her eyes were still clenched closed.

“Look at me, V.”

She did slowly, peeling one eye open and then the other to find him right where she’d left him, inches away from the apex of her thighs. He looked  _ hungry. _

“Do you wish me to stop? Do you wish to be untied?”

She answered before he was done asking. “ _ No.”  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and constructive feedback always welcome! :D
> 
> Come hang out on Tumblr with me; my handle is the same as here, or check out #cp2077thotsociety, and tag your thirst with it!


	3. The Roin/Goro's Assistance Remix Pt. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're really leaning into Daddy Goro here. Probably because he makes our knees weak. -fans self-
> 
> Suggested listening: "Too Close," Alex Clare

V immediately regretted telling Goro she didn’t want to be untied. He had pushed aside the part of her skirt giving her any illusion of coverage and resumed his lips’ torturously slow journey up her thigh, leaving her feeling exposed and without the means to grip his head and encourage him forward. She had slowly flushed redder and redder, the color creeping down her neck and into her chest.

Two strong hands on her hips snapped her out of her heated delirium. Goro pulled, forcing her to the very edge of the chair, arms torqued uncomfortably behind her. One of his hands touched her, then: sliding up along her folds and spreading them, exposing her clit and its hood, along with how absolutely _ drenched _ she was. She heard him hum an approval quietly in his throat, but her eyes had already fallen shut, like she was trying to hide from the depravity of what was happening.

She felt a piercing pinch then, just on the outside of her sex, that made her squeal in discomfort. Her eyes flew open to see Goro frowning up at her. When she had her eyes trained on him again, he pressed his mouth in on her, laving hot, open-mouthed kisses against her sensitive bundle of nerves.

A string of curses escaped V, hips twitching upward eagerly at the contact. Her head lolled back, vision suddenly occupied by the ceiling, and then she felt—another pinch.

“Ouch! The fuck…” She glanced back down to see what in the world was going on; Goro’s expert attentions resumed the second their gazes locked.

_ He wasn’t going to let her look away, _ she realized even as his mouth shifted lower for his tongue to dip into her slick entrance. Her eyelids twitched at his touch, threatening to close, and she felt his pace slow as they did so. “Oh, fuckin’ hell,” she ground out in frustration, forcing them open so she could stare into his twin pools of dark desire. He rewarded her with a flurry of soft licks and kisses, making her thighs tremble as he ratcheted her up toward release.

“You’re…the Devil, Goro,” V huffed out. She could see the sides of his eyes crinkle and feel him smirk against her. He was working faster now, alternatively applying more pressure with his tongue and suckling at her clit. Her breaths were coming in shorter and faster, the chair that held her creaking slightly as she wormed around, trying to force more friction without the use of her hands. She knew he sensed her frustration, because seconds later she felt two deft fingers stroking into her. She couldn’t keep a moan from escaping her lips, her eyes still locked on his. 

That seemed to be the encouragement he was looking for, because his mouth began to move against her with renewed purpose, pressing his tongue flat against her, grinding before switching back to tight, precise circles and his fingers started rocking in and out of her in a purposeful rhythm, curling them against the front of her walls just infrequently enough that she gasped from it every time it happened. She was quickly shaking beneath him, whimpering his name, eyes shining wet from the effort of keeping them on his as he drove her teetering to the edge. ”I’m—G-g-oro, I’m c-close…”

V saw a slight jerk of his head in confirmation, and then—he stopped. He pulled his mouth away from her center and his fingers followed seconds later; the frustrated scream that left her throat was both genuine and loud. “You absolute  _ fucker _ !” His smirk as he rose from his knees told her that this reaction was both expected and desired. “Fuckin’ untie me right fuckin’ now, Goro—”

He had a hand in her hair again but she was too wound up to notice, until he gave her scalp a sharp tug upward. “No. What a dirty mouth,” he answered in a voice that brooked no argument before he shoved the fingers that he had pleasured her with into her between her lips roughly. The slight gagging noise it elicited making his cock twitch in his trousers. She didn’t fail to notice it as she licked up and down the length of his fingers, tasting skin and chrome and her own salty tang. V blinked up at him, eyes wide, to find him fixated on the motion of her lips and tongue around his digits. A half-baked plan hatched inside her foggy brain, and she acted on it before she could even decide if it was viable. Rising up on trembling legs enough for her bound arms to clear the back of the chair, she hit the ground with her knees, slowly drawing Goro’s fingers out of her mouth with a wet slurp. She turned her eyes upward, giving him her best begging-pleading gaze as she pressed her cheek to the crotch of his pants, feeling him hot and hard against her face as she rubbed against the fabric. “Please untie me?”

V swore she saw his eyes darken even  _ further _ with lust, and she doubled down, mouthing at him through the cloth. “Please?”

“Minx.” The word came out through clenched teeth, fingers tensing in her hair while his other hand worked his belt buckle open, making quick work of the button and zipper of his pants. She tried (and probably failed) to hide her growing excitement at what was quickly becoming evident as he shoved the fabric of his boxers aside and his erection sprang free: Goro’s cock was  _ gorgeous _ . No wonder he walked around with all that Big Dick Energy.

She inadvertently caught the very tip of his head as she licked her lips appreciatively, earning her a strained intake of breath. She blinked innocently and repeated the motion on purpose, swirling her tongue around his head, under, over, and under again. He muttered something unintelligible in Japanese, eyes fixed on where her mouth was touching him; she closed her lips around him delicately then, giving him a wet suck for several seconds before letting him free with a pop. “Goro. Untie me, please. You can reach if you just bend over back there.”

V couldn’t stop a wicked smirk from stretching across her lips as she watched him do the mental math on what that meant for his member and her mouth. His eyes narrowed at her. “Shameless tease.” Her entire body pulsed at the slur.

_ Jesus _ , she would do anything to have him call her that again. She winked lewdly before closing her lips on him once more, encouraging by sliding him in further than before and wiggling her fingers at him, stretching her arms awkwardly to raise them a few inches upward toward him. Several long seconds passed, and then she felt the press of Goro sliding further into her mouth as he released her hair to curl over her form, stopping when he bumped the back of her throat but still a few inches short of her bonds. She hummed her encouragement against his skin, pulling a low groan from him as continued pushing to reach her wrists and into her throat as a result. V focused, forcing her muscles to swallow around his impressive girth as he plucked at the knot securing the cords, and even in the muffled space of his body bent over her, she heard him choke out a “ _ Fuck.”  _ Seconds later, she felt the tension behind her release and shook her stiff arms out of their bonds as Goro straightened, a hand racing to the back of her head to hold her in place as he did. She had just enough time to see how utterly undone he looked before she had to jerk backwards, gasping for air around his length as she gently lapped at his head again. She could see the thread of his self-control fraying.  _ But how do I break it? _

He was wrenching her backwards off of him then and pulling up, encouraging to her feet. They locked gazes, and V made no effort to hide her breathlessness, her swollen lips, her smudged eyeliner from watering eyes. Goro didn’t stop her as she reached to undo the rest of the buttons on his shirt. She barely resisted the urge to grab the plackets and rip it bodily off of him. “Thank you for untying me, Goro,” she murmured sweetly. 

“When you are done disrobing me, I wish you to shut your filthy mouth, strip, and get on the bed. Do you understand, temptress?” He pulled the tails of the garment up and out from his trousers as she pushed the fabric from his shoulders. 

V didn’t answer as his shirt hit the floor behind him. She was transfixed by the slope of his shoulders, the smooth expanse of muscle on his torso, crowned by the dangerous collar of cybernetics around his neck. “Fuck, you’re beautiful, Goro.” 

“That makes two of us, then,” he replied, in the softest tone she had ever heard him use. It startled her into looking back at his face and she felt his hand ghost along her cheek, mimicking the movement she’d practiced on him earlier in the evening. “Even if you do not listen.” The moment was over as soon as it began. “Strip, and then get on the bed, stubborn girl.”

“And if I don’t?” She helped the process of him shucking his trousers, pushing them down and letting him pull them off once he kicked out of his shoes, but didn’t give him a chance to respond before she had her fingers threaded in his hair, working it loose from the hair elastic and feeling it fall free. She heard him grumble deep in his chest as she massaged through it gently, combing out any small tangles before gathering a handful and giving the slightest tug. Goro’s eyes snapped open, having closed at her attention. They flashed her a warning, and V did not heed it. “Will you punish me, daddy?”

The thread snapped. A strong arm wrapped around V’s waist and lifted, picking her bodily up from the ground and covering the distance to her sleeping cubby before tossing her roughly onto the mattress. She barely had time to yank her dress over her head so she was nude as well and get her bearings before Goro was on her, a tiger ready to devour its meal, if meals were ever ready and  _ so fucking willing _ . His intensity made her scrabble backwards, unbidden, until her back hit the wall of the cubicle and all she could do is watch him descend on her, covering her mouth with his in a kiss that tasted like violence. Their teeth clacked, their tongues warred, and their hands battled to see who could claim more of the other’s body beneath their cruel grips. It was happening all at once: him pawing at her breasts while his lips trailed wetly down her neck, her fingernails scraping tiny, stinging paths of pain down his back, both rocking their hips desperately, seeking fulfilment. 

There was a burst of frantic rearrangement, and V’s front was suddenly pressed against the cool metal of the wall. She was grateful for the sudden temperate reprieve as Goro pressed his hips flush against her ass, rubbing his length along her dripping sex. She panted desperately. “Christ _ ,  _ Goro, fuck me already.”

And then her  _ head  _ was pressed against the wall, his broad palm holding her cheek against it with no small amount of pressure. “Silence, whore.” 

V couldn’t hold back a feverish whimper as he lined himself up with her entrance and pressed in at a snail’s pace, trying to push her hips back to take him in despite the tension in his arm holding her head. It earned her a smack on the ass as he continued his excruciating slide home. She was on the verge of tears when she felt him finally fully sheathed inside her, his ragged breathing a sign that he was as compromised as she. He stayed still, relishing the tight clench of her heat, even as she whined and writhed against him, begging him to move. “Please,  _ fuck _ , just move, please…”

The pressure on her head relented briefly as Goro shifted even further inside, pressing his hot, smooth torso against her back to lean in and nip at her ear. “Please,  _ what _ , stubborn girl?”

V craned her neck further, twisting uncomfortably to look at him, flushed-face-to-flushed-face. His dark hair hung wild to his shoulders as he stared expectantly at her. “Please fuck me, daddy.”

The first withdrawal and thrust back inside her had them both letting out relieved moans, naturally falling into a borderline frantic rhythm. She felt Goro fist his hand into her hair and pull, bowing her back and forcing her head up onto his shoulder. She immediately burrowed into the crook of his neck, moaning his name brokenly against his throat.

He was relentless as his hips punched into her over and over. She could hear the smirk, and the pleasure, in his voice when he murmured, “Your mouth has ceased its insolence, finally.” 

_ Ooooooh.  _ Even through the waves of pleasure and the tightness twisted in her gut from her denied release earlier, she still felt a tickle of annoyance. He was good. “Miss it already?” V panted. “I’ll start again if you want.”

His hand holding her hip slid down her front to circle at her now-aching bundle of nerves. “If you would like to come apart around me, I would advise against it.”

She was too far gone chasing her own end to even bother replying, one hand bending backwards to bury itself in his hair, turning his head to continue mouthing sloppily at his skin. Her climax was rushing up like a freight train, and she felt his thrusts grow more erratic after she murmured she was close. She could hear sweet Japanese nothings falling from his lips, and the unexpected whisper of “Come like a good girl, now,” and a tender kiss on her temple shot her, burning, over the edge, the sensation of release so powerful that V could only manage pained whimpers against his skin, even as she felt him grind out his own orgasm deep inside her, grunting viciously as his last few faltering thrusts rammed home.

The violent shaking of her thighs brought them both tumbling down onto their sides, sucking in air through parched lips for several long minutes before one of them spoke. It was Goro.

“You are an impossible student.” 

“I’m sorry, you mispronounced ‘my star pupil.’” She felt a pinch at her side and slapped his hand away, but there was a grin in both of their voices. V rolled to face him and couldn’t resist running her fingers through his silky, black curtain of hair one more time. His eyes were incredibly soft and she tried to hold the image in her mind’s eye for later.

“Okay, your turn now.”

His brow furrowed. “I do not understand.”

“You taught me how to seduce. Now I’m gonna teach you the People’s Elbow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! :D Comments and constructive feedback always welcome.
> 
> I don't even like wrestling like that, y'all; I just think calling it "The People's Elbow" is hilarious. xD
> 
> Come hang out with me on Tumblr! The handle is the same, or check out #cp2077thotsociety.


	4. B Side: Placide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is my Formal Complaint about not getting more VooDoo Boys content in the game. Their vibe and techno-mysticism in general is rad. The actual religion of Vodou is fascinating; if you are ever in a place where you can take a tour/learn from a proper Vodoun priest, I would highly recommend it.
> 
> Suggested Listening: "Two Weeks," FKA Twigs (also whatever church-as-a-metaphor-for-sex song you want: "Closer," "Take Me To Church," etc.)
> 
> Haitian Creole:
> 
> Papa Legba - the loa responsible for gate-opening, crossroads, and bridging the living world and the one beyond; is summoned at the beginning of some Vodou rituals by offerings of rum. Like. Lots of it.  
> "volez" - thief  
> "sispann" - stop, you stop  
> "pitit" - child  
> "wi" - yes  
> "ti volez" - little thief

“You are my vessel now,” said the absolute tree of a man sitting at the desk across from her. “Through Agwe, I see what you see, hear what you hear.”

V scowled at him and said nothing in reply just yet. Her brain was already too crowded as it was, what with the irritated rockerboy ghost currently leaning up against the wall behind the desk. She didn’t need a surly Haitian netrunner in there as well. A long moment passed where Placide eyed her stoically; she wanted to shrink under his gaze but resisted, meeting his stare. 

“Then why are you still holdin’ my hand, choom?” Her fingers were dwarfed by the sheer size of his palm, making her look like a small, delicate porcelain doll in comparison.

“Because I want to know what this is.” Placide forced her to bend at the elbow and brandished her own hand in her face, tapping his fingers against the tender spots on her wrist: twin puncture wounds, swollen and red, the skin around them pink and starting to trail upward toward her elbow. She couldn’t take blockers for this; having Johnny with her in case they found Alt was vital. V couldn’t stop from blushing at the evidence of her condition and she wrenched herself from his grip with no small amount of effort.

“It’s nothing.”

“Don’t look like nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like it’s any of your fuckin’ business, either.” She stood from the chair indignantly. He had already scanned her, nearly discovered the engram, and boarded her body. Was nothing her own any more? “We done here?” 

Placide rose as well, immediately minimizing any dominance in her posturing; he towered over her by at least a foot. She was eye-level with his chest now, and could see the pattern of scarification running down either side of his sternum. She wondered what it meant; she wondered what it would feel like under her fingers. _Under her tongue._

 _“V. Get it together, for fuck’s sake.”_ She would never tell Johnny she was grateful for him in that moment, but could tell he knew all the same. She took a purposeful step back from the desk, shaking her head slightly to clear it. If Placide noticed anything, he did not mention it.

“Look for my people outside the GIM.” V started to walk away and heard his voice behind her. “I will be inside you, _volèz._ ” She grimaced to herself, jogging around the corner to take the stairs two at a time. She knew what Placide had meant, but did he have to say it _that_ way?

\---

V hustled back down the stairs of the theater, heart thundering in her chest. She had clocked the NetWatch agent pretty hard, but who knows how long she had before he woke up again. She skidded to a stop once she reached the damned van that had been the start of this shit show, hissing into her connection with the VooDoo Boys lieutenant and praying the signal had been restored. “Placide. Placide!”

“V. What is going on? What you do?”

Even through her shuddering breath and quiet whispers, the fury in her voice dripped. “Listen here, you cock-sucking, back-stabbing, roach-licking piece of shit. I know what this virus is going to do to me when I jack into that fucking NetWatch agent upstairs. Now you either boost my ICE enough to survive it, or you can say your goodbyes to Maman Brigitte and Ti Neptune, because I will storm the fuck in there and murder them both while you’re watching through your precious fucking Rezo Agwe, and then do the same to you.” She was seeing red, and not because of Heat, for once. Even Johnny was angry; she could feel it, fuel on her already burning rage starting to catch.

“What—”

“ _Do it, Placide._ ”

There was silence at the other end of the line; it was quiet so long that V whipped out her pistol and cocked it, in case he was wondering about her conviction. Then, a blinking red sensor on her diagnostic screen, and a strained voice in her ear.

“I have given you all that I can already. Rest is up to you.”

“You better come collect my body and give me a Vodou funeral like you’ve never fuckin’ seen if I flatline. Call Papa Legba the fuck up.”

Another long pause; she was up the escalator and into the theater before she heard his reply. “We will need more rum.”

 _Christ_ , who did he think he was, cracking a joke right now? She smirked at it despite herself. She couldn’t wait to punch him right in the jaw, even if it would probably break her hand.

The NetWatch agent was still unconscious in the projection room. It _had_ been quite the right hook. She crouched beside him, hand trembling as she pulled out her personal link to jack in. Johnny flickered into existence beside her. _“This is gonna really fuckin’ hurt, doll,”_ he offered unhelpfully.

“Thanks, choom. So supportive.” She didn’t give him a chance to respond before she plugged into the unconscious man beside her. The map she had seen earlier glitched into existence, spinning out wildly into another picture of the country. The tiny Netwatch map markers glitched into cruel red skulls, more and more swimming in her vision until they came for her, and everything went black.

\---

 _The sun was so fucking_ bright _, even though it was dusk. She was floating on her back, wafting through the air of Pacifica toward Batty’s Hotel. Beams of crimson and pink light filtered through the beams of the roller coaster and Ferris wheel, painting her skin with the soft colors of the sunset. It was only then that she noticed the strong arms cradling her torso and legs, and the heat of the wide body she was being gently pressed against. Then darkness returned, and she let it in without a fight._

_\---_

Something was tickling V’s nose. She tried to wave it away but her arm was frozen, stuck in mid-air like it was wrapped around an invisible fly trap. She blinked her eyes open slowly to see Placide, peering at her face so closely his dreadlocks were brushing her skin, his hand closed around her arm that had been trying to move. Her seated body hurled itself away from him without success, trying to scuttle along the tile floor to escape between netrunner chairs, but he had her in his iron grasp. Her legs tangled in the web of cords beneath her as she struggled against him. “Fucking let go, you asshole!” 

“V. V! You are safe.” He let go of her arm, seeing her refusal to settle down, and she scrambled to her feet from where she had been lying on the floor. The room spun as she stood up quickly, and she had to grip the nearest wall for stability.

“The _fuck_ I am!” she spat at him. “What the hell happened?”

“The virus was very strong. Almost burnt you out,” Placide explained calmly, like the whole situation wasn’t his horrendous idea in the first place. “I collected you.”

“And whose fuckin’ fault is is it that you had to do that, huh?!” She swayed on the spot and he reached to steady her; she batted his hands away, a hissing cat trapped in a corner and ready to fight. “No wonder nobody wants to take jobs for you, if this is how you treat _ranyons_.” V spat out the last word, watching his stern face tic with surprise at the phrase.

“I must do what is good for my people.” He said, his tone still more appropriate for talking about the weather. “You would do the same. Besides, you are alive, yeah? No _ranyon_ here.” Did his accent make everything sound like a taunt, or was she just wound up? Her skin was flushed and despite the room’s natural cold temperature, she felt warm.

“No fuckin’ thanks to you—” She was gearing up to scratch his eyeballs out of his skull when another voice, feminine and authoritative, spoke.

“Placide. _Sispann_ .” The woman stepped forward from where she had been tapping at a keyboard a few feet behind Placide; he occupied such a space that V had not even been aware that she was there. Her short, spiky hair set off her gold cyberware, earrings and painted lips. “If you are ready to find Alt, we are ready to take you, _pitit._ ” 

“Maman Brigitte?”

 _“Wi.”_ She extended a hand to V. V took it, if only to spite the man still glaring down at her after having been silenced by his superior, a twitch working in his jaw as she brushed past him and allowed herself to be led to a metal tub full of ice.

“Whoa, whoa—why do I have to go with you? You’re the neuromancers.”

“Alt needs to see enough of Johnny that she believes you _are_ Johnny. This is the only way.”

Johnny’s voice bounced around in her head. _“Ready, kitten? Time for some answers.”_ She was ready, and needed answers desperately, but _Christ_ , that water looked cold. 

Placide’s hands were on her before she could stop him, stripping her jacket from her shoulders and setting it aside. “You will want that when you are done,” she heard him say quietly, but she was already bracing her hands on the side of the tub and trying to lift a shaky leg up and over the edge. She had almost managed it when he lifted her from the waist—the span of his hands circled her torso almost completely—and slowly lowered her into the icy water. She had no choice but to let him, although she glowered at him afterward. The chattering of her teeth took the edge off her fierceness; she saw the corner of his lip twitch upward in response. A netrunner took her head in one hand and a cord in the other, and the last thing she saw was Placide, his arms crossed solemnly over his chest, the darkness returning as they dove deep into the Net.

\---

_Was she dead? It was kind of nice if she was. Dark. Calm. Fuckin’ freezing, though. Then she was floating again, slow and smooth, as the world slowly dripped into focus, a neon veve shimmering in her vision above her._

\---

V shuddered into consciousness as Placide set her gently onto the altar at the front of the rundown chapel; it was the only surface big enough to hold her there. He saw her blink up at him between shivers. “You are alive.”

“N-n-n-no-o-o-s-s-sh-sh-sh-shi-shi-shit-t-t-t,” was all she could rattle out. “W-w-w-w-w-w-wh-wha-wha-what-t-t-t—”

“Shhh.” It wasn’t a noise made kindly, a thick finger pressing against her chattering, blue-tinged lips, urging her into silence. It was so warm that V couldn’t stop herself from leaning into his hand. He noticed and kept the digit pressed there as he shook out her jacket from inside the folds of his trench coat, encouraging her trembling arms into it. “Your body is tired from the Net. You did not awaken after Brigitte brought you back. I bring you here to wait until you can walk.”

She wanted to fire off some sarcastic remark so badly, but all her body would do is shiver. She had to settle for glaring icy daggers at him instead. He didn’t seem affected, but still told her off. “Do not look at me like that.”

“W-w-w-w-wh-wh-wh-why-n-n-n-n-no-no-not-t-t-t-t-t?” Another violent shudder wracked her body, although the edge was starting to come off. Her skin felt prickly, and she shrugged out of her jacket he had just put on her.

“Leave that on.”

“N-n-n-n-n-n-no, i-i-i-it-t-t-’s-s-s i-i-i-i-i-t-t-t-t-ch-ch-ch-ch-y-y-y-y-y.” V heard an impatient _tsk_ , and then Placide was lowering his massive frame down next to hers with all the confidence in the world that the altar would hold them both. A blink later and his hands were wrapped easily around her upper arms, hauling her into his _lap_ of all places. She realized what was happening too late; her shivers were so strong that they couldn’t be discerned from her struggles against him, anyway. He dragged her over so her legs dangled over one massive thigh and pressed her against his torso, wrapping one side of his jacket around her to create a cocoon of fabric and body heat.

He was so _warm_ . She couldn’t help the sigh of relief that escaped her, and felt a cruel chuckle vibrate through him into her body. “You are too stubborn, _volèz_.” 

They sat like that for several long minutes, until she eventually went still beneath him. He had worked one broad palm under her damp tank top to press across her lower back for more skin-to-skin contact. It was almost peaceful inside the dark chapel, lit only by the neon iconography. The sounds of the city were muted, sirens becoming quiet hums, the pop of gunfire more like a crackle of a fire. She didn’t notice that she had been absentmindedly stroking a few of his patterned scars until Placide spoke. “The answer is yes,” he offered, seemingly out of nowhere.

“Hm?” She slowly became aware of his hand on her bare skin and her spine straightened suddenly. _When had she gone from freezing to boiling hot?_ She still felt so cold, but at the same time, her skin was roasting. A sheen of sweat had broken out across her brow, she noticed, as he replied to the question he so arrogantly thought she was posing.

“They go all the way down.” She could hear the smirk in his voice as she snatched her hand away from his chest, huffing with indignation, and a bit of embarrassment at having been caught. He had made no move to remove his hand from under her shirt, however; on the contrary, she could feel his thumb brushing back and forth over her spine. She shifted as if to pull away from him and he opened his coat for her, giving her a clear chance to escape and the first chance she’d had to look at her wrists since this morning.

 _Shit._ The pink was back, and it had stretched up almost to her elbows. In a growing panic, V tried to shove herself up and off of Placide’s chest, but her weak arms did little but rock her softly away from him. “Y-you k-know, arrogance is-s n-n-not an at-t-t-t-tractive qua-quality.” _Christ, if he could just take his hand off of her_ ; it was searing a hole in her skin.

And then, as if he had heard her thoughts, she felt him withdraw and grab her hips instead, seemingly to assist her in her escape. He lifted gently, but before she could swing her legs around, he had turned her 90 degrees, his powerful thighs forcing her to straddle them, pressing her back flush with his chest with a splay of fingers on her stomach.

“Do not need attraction if it is already there,” he intoned so smugly it almost made her gag. A finger tapped at her tender wrist knowingly. “See what you see, hear what you hear, feel what you feel.”

V took several deep, calming breaths, but could still feel her heart pounding. She reached out for Johnny, hoping for him to tell her to get it together again, but he had delta’d to who-knows-where. “T-t-take th-that s-sp-spectre off-f m-me r-right n-now, g-gonk.”

Placide ignored her demand; he was even _breathing_ like a jerk now. She could feel self-satisfaction as his exhales ghosted over her hair, his free hand trailing one finger pad down her throat, producing a shiver she wouldn’t be able to pass off as a post-Net recovery chill. “Saw your video from the chrome shaman. I know it is drugs. I know you _need it._ ”

V felt a sharp pinch at her nipple through her damp tank top— _should’ve paid more attention to where that hand was headed—_ , and immediately regretted the needy noise that escaped her throat. Another dark chuckle from behind her, and she could feel warmth flood into her loins.

“Won’t take it from you,” he murmured in her ear. The hand on her stomach had started to stroke itself lower, over the waistband and fastening on her pants, as if doing reconnaissance work for the very near future. “Not a _volèz_ like you.” Finally, the context she needed: a thief. _Can’t argue with that._

Placide tilted her chin upward toward his face, then, a hand curling around her throat and forcing her own to angle up and up, until they were eye-to-eye even though their faces were opposite each other. He could see the fire in her eyes, and, underneath, the _want_ . It made him twitch inside his pants, where he was already half-hard. “Tell me _wi_ , _ti volèz.”_ She was so stubborn. He watched her mouth curl into a snarl and resisted the urge to bite it off of her lips. He would enjoy breaking this one. He pulled his other hand from her waistband to pluck at her other nipple, and watched her make that same sweet mewl she had earlier. He raised an eyebrow expectantly at her while she shifted uncomfortably underneath him. 

The silence stretched from seconds into minutes as he watched the silent battle of wills play across her features—desire, anger, frustration, disgust, embarrassment, shame, a fleeting glimpse of sadness. He saw her eyes close, eyebrows furrowing, and prepared himself for the denial. Then he heard it, so soft he wouldn’t have known she said it if his palm hadn’t been pressed to her vocal cords.

“Yes.”

At the admission, V felt the fingers around her throat relax and a satisfied hum from behind her, the hand settling more comfortably on her collarbone. Placide’s other hand returned to the waistband of her pants, flicking them open with practiced ease and dipping his fingers in slowly, brushing further downward with every trace of her trembling abdomen.

She was desperate to hang her head and hide behind curtains of hair, but she was equally desperate to not give him the fucking satisfaction; as she felt his finger move along the seam of her cunt, her head whipped sharply to the side, pressing back into his chest even as her hips twitched forward at the contact. Her breath was starting to come in short little gasps as he pushed further in, circling her entrance and drawing up slowly to do the same around her clit. She shifted against his wrist, closing her fingers around it in an attempt to get him to apply more pressure, and heard another laugh from behind her.

“Must ask nicely,” he said into the hair at the top of her head. _Christ on a cracker._

“P-please.” V tried to speak clearly and sound as unbothered as possible, and managed to do a passable job; of course, all of it was for nothing because of the choked groan she let out when Placide finally sunk a thick finger into her. The fabric of her pants and the size of his hand held his palm tightly against her, keeping his digit fully pressed inside, even as he began to flex his wrist and curl his finger against her. 

She clapped her own hand over her mouth, trying to muffle the whines sneaking out from her lips. She was already rocking against him shamelessly, coiled tight from the events of the day and her own tangled web of emotions. At the very least, she could wring an orgasm out fast and be gone without looking him in the eye.

He slid another finger into her and her eyes flew open at the stretch, hips stuttering to a stop as she adjusted. The electric veve and the roiling red haze of Heat filled her vision with a perverted religious sight; Placide’s hands would surely bring her to her knees. Her fingers were pried away from her mouth and replaced by his own, sinking two fingers in between her lips, filling her there as well. She moaned around the digits when he pressed his thumb against her sensitive nub; he grunted his approval when she began rutting against his hand in earnest, the sound of her own wetness spurring her toward a rough, dirty climax. 

V was so focused on chasing her own end, feeling so full from the press of just his fingers inside her, that she did not notice the clinking of belt buckles and holsters after Placide took his fingers out of her mouth. It was only when he suddenly withdrew from inside her, wrapping an arm around her waist and lifting her like she weighed nothing, hearing his pants being shoved down and feeling cool air on the skin of her thighs as her own garment joined, that she realized what was going to happen. She opened her mouth to protest but could only whimper as he sat back and lowered her onto his very hard, very large cock.

“ _Fuck!”_ Her head flew back against his chest with force, eyes open wide with the pressure and burn of him splitting her in twain, his arm still around her waist to ease her down gently. He was _too big_ ; she was seeing stars, tears welling in her eyes with the intensity of the intrusion. He was going to break her. _Maybe he wanted to._

“Now look at what you’re taking, _ti_ _volèz_ ,” he rumbled against her ear, now that he could dip his head down to reach it. She was wide-eyed and slack-jawed against his chest, chest heaving as she struggled to accommodate him. V was seated on him fully after minutes of this that felt like eternities; her thighs quaked wildly as she fought not to come apart around him just like this.

When Placide finally, blessedly, shifted his hips under her in a small, controlled thrust, V wailed unashamedly, lips trembling around the words she was trying to say to him. “P-please, Pl-Placide, m-m-ove, pl-ease.”

She hated the smirk in his voice as he complied, telling her, “So pretty when you beg,” beginning to rock in a smooth, steady rhythm that had her whimpering with every shift. Her shaking hands reached forward, bracing herself on his muscular thighs and he immediately reached to grapple her hips in response, using the leverage to thrust harder and faster.

“So fucking tight,” V heard him mutter, followed by a string of Creole curses her translator couldn’t catch. It was a cold comfort; she was practically weeping from the fullness now, the clench of her walls around him feeling doubly intense from his size. The tension was notching up fast and she shivered against it, trying to bite her lips against the moans wanting to rip out of her. 

Placide noticed; _of course he noticed. Feel what I feel, remember?_ He reached a hand forward over her hip; he didn’t need to stretch far at all for his fingertips to push hard circles over her clit. “Do not deny me,” he intoned darkly, and the added pressure detonated the bomb inside her. V threw her head back and howled her release, glowing in the neon light as she offered her ecstasy up as a tithe. She couldn’t hold back her sobs any longer, and they wracked her body, shuddering as a warm palm pressed against her back. 

Her tears had lit a fire inside Placide; watching her come undone did the same to him, and he shouted out as he held her fast down onto him. She could feel each pulse of him inside her as he thrust up into her through his last spasms.

He had definitely exhausted the Heat in her, that was for sure; V could very clearly feel the frustration of having given in to this depraved union. She tried to lift herself off of him, but her thighs refused to cooperate. She huffed quietly to herself, pressing up again and this time feeling his hands circle her waist, helping her dismount and setting her gently on her feet. He didn’t let go right away and she was secretly grateful; her knees buckled immediately and it took several more moments of his anchoring for her to feel steady. She heard a satisfied hum behind her as she felt something sticky start to slip down her thighs as she bent to pull up her pants, tottering a few steps away to slip on the jacket she had discarded so rashly earlier.

She felt the groan of the altar as Placide lifted his bulking weight off of it, and she risked a glance at him from the corner of her eye. That son of a bitch barely even looked bothered as he tucked himself back into his pants, the thin sheen of sweat on his brow and chest the only indication that he had just fucked her into next month. That almost pissed her off more than anything. 

She turned to go, hoping to slip out without any further conversation, when she felt his hand clap onto her shoulder and spin her to face him, their height disparity again noticeable now that everyone was vertical. She saw his eyes glow blue momentarily, and then he looked down at her with only a little hint of the self-satisfaction she was expecting.

“I removed the spectre.” He nodded at her.

She turned and took a few steps toward the door. “Thanks—"

“—now there is only one thing of mine inside you, _ti volèz._ ”

V had to change the end of her sentence, flipping an enthusiastic bird over her shoulder without looking back “—for fuckin’ NOTHING, you gonk!” She banged the doors of the chapel open harder than she needed to, but could still hear the chuckle behind her as she strode into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and feedback always welcome! :D
> 
> Many really good fics updated while I was writing this and generally made me feel very insecure about my skill, so thanks to Smuttie for bribing me with digital baked goods and Voilete for being an old fart with me.
> 
> Come hang out with me on Tumblr; handle is the same, or check out #cp2077thotsociety and tag your thirst with it!


	5. The Argument Extension Remix Pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We've done power-fucking, we've done hate-fucking, now some fluff-fucking, and sad-fucking! It's a fucking buffet. xD
> 
> Suggested listening: "Why Don't You Save Me," Kan Wakan
> 
> This is an exploration of the other side of a divergence point in the original work; you'll see some text copied over for context. :)

“V. Don’t.” 

They were the first words Johnny had spoken to her since his appearance. She was fingering the red and blue blockers tucked in her pants absentmindedly as she got dressed, not really thinking about taking them beyond the part of her morning routine they had become. There was no venom or anger in the words, but they sat heavy in the hair with the weight of things unsaid. She pulled her hand out of the pocket without looking at him. “Okay.”

She stepped outside the cabin into the blinding morning sun, squinting her eyes at the figure on the stairs until it came into focus: Panam, with the world’s biggest smirk on her face.

“Not one goddamn word, you. It was a creature of your own design.”

Her friend, never one for following instructions, raised her hands in faux conciliation as she stood up and walked off the steps. “Sure sounded like a creature, anyway.” 

“Pan! What did I just say?”

Another shit-eating grin. “C’mon, your compensation is over here.” She walked towards the motorcycles in the distance; the Aldecaldos that had come to meet them had been kind enough to bring Scorpion’s bike along for V. 

V waved in response to Cassidy’s cheerful greeting, not venturing any further toward the van where the others had grouped around Saul, who was perched on the edge of the cargo bay. She knew he was watching her, even with the sun’s rays blocking her vision. She raised her hand for a goodbye finger wiggle, trying to keep things casual, and started to follow Panam. 

There was the creak of the van’s suspension and a thud of some footsteps behind her; a moment later, Saul caught her around the front of her waist, standing not behind her but to her side, so it wouldn’t look like anything other than him standing too close to the people behind them.

“Stay?” His breath warmed her hair when he spoke.

Jesus Christ , this was hard, and then it got harder: Johnny’s engram glitched directly in front of V, fixing her with a thousand-yard stare as Saul worked his fingertips under the hem of her top compulsively in an effort to touch her skin.

“I…can’t.”

“Why?” She wasn’t sure who sounded more disappointed.

“It’s…” Her next words caught in her throat as Johnny caught her gaze again, tapping his wrist in the universally-understood mime for “hurry the fuck up already”. Her hackles raised at his demand of her; she knew he was right, but did he have to commandeer  _ every fuckin’ thing?  _

“It’s what, pretty?” She turned her head to meet Saul’s gaze, and it felt like a sucker punch to the gut. His eyes were full of all the things she would have wanted at one time, and the temptation was too strong to resist.

“It’s nothing that can’t wait a day or two, actually,” she said quietly.

_ “The fuck, V?!”  _ She ignored Johnny, focusing instead on the squeeze Saul gave her hip and returning his small smile.

“See you at camp?”

“Yeah.” He pulled away from her then, and she walked forward to say goodbye to Panam. Johnny’s anger layered heavy on her, over the tingle of anticipation she felt at the idea of an escape, even if just for a day or two.

“What was  _ that  _ about?” Panam’s tone irked her in the soft way that only friendly jabs could sometimes annoy. V walked to Scorpion’s bike, avoiding Pan's eye as she scooped up her new sniper rifle into her arms and peered down the scope studiously.

“I’m, uh, going to spend a couple days at camp.”

“Shit, V! You got it bad.” Panam slung a leg over her bike. “Wasn’t going to go back for a while, but I’ll pop by tonight or tomorrow to make sure you’re walking straight.”

“I hate you.”

Pan rolled the throttle of her bike smugly. “I know. See ya, choom.” 

V watched the bike grow tiny on the horizon, the dust cloud swirling mysteriously behind the tires with a tiny pang of sadness; there was no one to distract her from what she knew was coming next. Sure enough, as soon as she mounted up her own ride, she felt a cold metal arm clamp down around her waist. She didn’t need to turn to know that Johnny had mounted up behind her in a digital mockery of traditional road safety. He wouldn’t fall anywhere but off his ass laughing if something happened to V on the bike.

“Selfish cunt.” She heard Johnny’s voice bounce around in her brain, no matter how loudly she revved the engine as she pulled onto the road after the rest of the Aldecaldos.  _ Well. Getting right down to it, aren’t we? _

“I hope you see the irony of you calling me that,” V snapped back mentally. She was hunched down on the bike, going too fast just to enjoy the wind whipping through her hair, tasting the transient sense of freedom that the road had always brought her. 

“Oh, yeah, I’m the bad guy here,” scoffed Johnny. His holier-than-thou attitude was not a cute look. “ _ I’m  _ definitely the one shirkin’ all my responsibilities to play dusty-ass desert house with Badlands He-Man.”

“Who the hell is He-Man, you crotchety old fuck?” She didn’t wait for an answer as the caravan slowed, rolling into the Aldecaldos camp. “I have more than enough blockers in my pocket to pack you away for the next week. You gonna make me use them, or do you think you can keep your monster ego in check? I know it’s asking a lot of you.” Her tone was hard, uncompromising. She got off the bike without waiting for him to untangle himself from her, and felt his fingers pull on her tank top, stopping her from walking away.

“You better fuckin’ not, V. Hate that shit. Like being in Mikoshi again.” His voice was unexpectedly frank; the candid confession was a surprise bomb she now had to diffuse.

“Then…just let me have this. Please. This one last thing.” It was her turn now to give him an emotional explosive. Johnny didn’t respond, but she felt his hand release her and the sudden void that was always there whenever he blinked out of existence. 

“V!” Cassidy was calling to her from where they had pulled the van into the vehicle paddock. “Saul says you were the Bakkers' best mechanic. You gonna help me replace all these radiator hoses or what?”

She sucked in a big inhale and exhale before starting to jog in his direction. “Sure, I’ll help, but you know Saul’s mouth is always writing checks he can’t cash.”

“I heard that!” Saul didn’t bother to turn around as he walked away, but she could hear the smile in his voice. Cassidy threw his head back and laughed.

\---

“Could someone up there hand me the ⅜ socket instead of flappin’ their gums?” 

V wiped her hand on her tank top, which she was sure was filthy with grease by now. She had spent the day on a roller creeper under most of the Aldecaldos’ cars, her small hands snaking where Cassidy or Mitch’s couldn’t reach to loosen clamps, torque bolts, and thread hoses. Her fingers ached, but she couldn’t deny being grateful for the shade from the scorching desert sun it afforded her. Johnny had been sulking around for most of the day, popping up to perch on whatever truck or car she was working on, only speaking to guide her tool in a particularly tight spot, or once, after she had figured out how to reroute a hose to keep oil out of a turbo booster, to tell her, “ _ That’s pretty hot, V _ .” She had smiled at him, and she could feel their simmering anger cool just a little.

“Hello up there!” She called again. “⅜ socket, please!” Silence. They had gone off and left her. Gonks, the both of them.

Then, she saw a pair of boots appear from around the wheel and stuck her hand out for the requested tool, but instead of surrendering it, the boots positioned another creeper to roll under the engine with her. A torso settled on it, socket wrench in hand.

“Hey, pretty.” Saul inched up into the space under the truck next to her, his head turned to the side to give her a grin as he handed over the wrench.

V couldn’t keep a schoolgirl smile off her face, so she focused instead on tightening the last of the clamps. “Hey yourself. Busy day?”

She saw him nod from the corner of her eye. “Complete re-eval of trade routes, drop points, defensive scout placement. Panam went out to do recon on the Wraiths.”

“She told me. Said she would drop by tonight or tomorrow night,” V shared, claiming victory over the last hose and settling the wrench on her torso, finally turning her head toward him. The way his lips twitched upward at her made her heart free fall into her stomach. ( _ “Gross,” _ she heard Johnny make a gagging noise from somewhere, but then he fell blessedly silent.) He reached out and dragged his thumb along her cheek; they both watched as it came away smudged with dirt and grease. She wrinkled her nose at the sight. “Sorry, I know I look like a hot mess express.”

“You’ve got part of it right, at least,” Saul said quietly, dark eyes burning into hers and making her breath catch in her throat. Was this man ever  _ not _ smoldering just under the surface? She felt a whip of lust crack through her middle that had nothing to do with Heat, and she reached out to push a hand through his hair without thinking. His lips caught the swell of her palm and pressed against it gently.

Loudly-shuffling boots approaching broke the spell of the moment; V was certain Cassidy was doing it on purpose. “Water tanker is nice and full if you want a quick shower,” Saul winked at her as he said it, turning a benign fact into an alluring promise, and then pushed himself out from under the truck to greet their company. She was grateful for the moments to take some deep breaths and calm herself. 

When she rolled out from under the Thornton, Saul was long gone, but the look Cassidy gave her as he clasped her forearm to haul her up was enough to have her blushing all over again. “Cass—”

“Ah ah ah!” The cowboy shushed her kindly. “None of my business. Carol has some of Panam’s old clothes, I’d bet they’d fit you.” He gestured to her tank top. “Go get cleaned up now.” V handed him the ratchet and turned to find Carol. She hadn’t felt this light in ages.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! :D Comments and constructive feedback always welcome! 
> 
> Come hang out with me on Tumblr! It's CP2077ThotSociety, or hashtag your thirst with #cp2077thotsociety. I'll be posting playlists from this work and Heat there soon, if you want some new musical flavors in your ears.


	6. The Argument Extension Remix Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dammit, Johnny, what are you doing?
> 
> Cassidy is a kindly, Sam Elliott grandpa and I won't hear a word otherwise.
> 
> Suggested listening: "Love Is Blindness," Jack White

**V [09:49 PM]:**

_ Thanks for leaving some clothes with Carol, choom! _

_ Ruined my top, klepped one of yours. _

**PANAM [09:50 PM]:**

_ Are you telling me Saul couldn’t even make it _

_ 12 hours without ripping off your shirt? ; ) _

**V [09:51 PM]:**

_ Christ, I knew I shouldn’t have texted you. I _

_ was working in the paddock and got it greasy. _

_ A perfectly normal reason.  _

**PANAM [09:52 PM]:**

_ I’ll be in camp by sundown tomorrow. :* _

V sighed quietly to herself, sliding the phone back into her jacket pocket, and yanking up the zipper to her chin. The desert was cold at night; showers from the water tanker were very cold, however grateful she was to be clean.

Most of the camp was gathered around a big fire; no one said it was for any specific reason, but the way Saul had slowly worked his way around the circle to touch base with everyone told her it was some sort of clan meeting, however informal. She had hung back from it; she knew people liked her here, but she definitely wasn’t part of the family.

“You know I’ve been a good boy all day, V,” said Johnny, sitting next to her on the bed of someone’s truck, a distance away from the clan drum circle.

“You have been, Johnny, it’s true,” she confirmed, giving him a patronizing boop on the nose. She reached into the other pocket of her jacket and pulled out a cigarette case, snapping it open and pulling one out, along with a lighter. The end of the smoke roared to red, smoldering life. She heard Johnny sigh beside her when she took the first long drag into her lungs.

“ _ Christ _ , I could kiss you right now, kitten.” She smirked at him through her smoky exhale.

“That noise you just made means we’re already at second base, choom.” She inhaled again, flicking some ash off into the dirt. She was surprised how naturally this was happening, given that it had only been 72 hours since he was fucking her face enthusiastically in her apartment. “We gonna talk about the other night?”  _ Exhale. _

“If you wanna,” he replied, just as casually. “I was just tryin’ to help my choom out.” She scoffed, but knew in her heart that he wasn’t lying.  _ Inhale.  _ V decided to let it go.

Johnny, however, had not. She felt a metal finger brush along the side of her neck, almost like it was an accident.  _ Exhale.  _ He did it again, and followed up with what she thought was the softest kiss he may have ever placed on another human. She closed her eyes against how good it felt, willing the reaction away before he could sense it.  _ Inhale. _

“Johnny. What are you doing?” Her voice had a hint of warning in it. Was he trying to wind her up on purpose? The Heat had been quiet since last night; it had been a good day.  _ It had been a good day. When was the last time she had been able to say that _ ? She couldn’t remember.  _ Exhale. _

“Whatever you want, doll, if it’s not in this god-forsaken sandbox and with that bootleg rockerboy networking over by the fire.”  _ Sharp inhale. _

She hopped off the truck bed, facing him with a scowl on her face, exhaling the last breath of smoke directly into him. The butt fell out of her hand onto the ground and she stamped it out harder than strictly necessary. “You know, you’ve bragged about your impressive cock, Silverhand, but you never give enough credit to your massive ego.” 

“Oh, c’mon, V! You really want to lean into that over there? This incomplete version of baby V that the gonk’s held in his mind for years? He’s after the idea of you, not  _ you  _ you. And probably your great tits.”

“Why do you insist on ruining literally everything, Johnny?” She turned her head skyward; outside the neon paint of the city lights, stars blinked in the black canvas of night. Her fingers were already rooting around in pocket for a blocker, blue or red; she didn’t care which kind it was if it would shut him up.

“I know what you want, V, and this shit ain’t it.” It made her snap her face down to his with a snarl.

“ _ You know nothing about me, _ ” she hissed at her imaginary friend, who had a sneer on his face to match her own. Behind her, she heard a voice—Mitch, maybe—call for her.

“V! Get your gonk ass over here!”

She popped a pill—blue, the big guns—and swallowed hard, forcing it down without any beverage. Johnny still got in the last word.

“I know  _ everything _ about you, Violet.”  _ Oooooooooh _ , he was lucky he was already incorporeal enough that she couldn’t touch him (and that she would look right-fuckin’-crazy punchng the air). She turned on her heel and headed toward the fire, trying not to stomp.

\---

“…and if it weren’t for her and Panam, I might not be standing in front of you now.” V’s cheeks were burning and it wasn’t from the heat of the fire. Saul had his arm slung around her waist as he addressed the clan, the unnecessary recognition making her unusually bashful as much as the obvious gesture of closeness.

“More importantly, she’s the reason most of your cars have had their radiators freshly flushed!” A smattering of laughter and applause, and V smiled gratefully at Cassidy for breaking the ice. She was friendly with many members of the clan, but just as many were peering through the flames with solemn stares, downright suspicion, or, in the case of a pretty blonde with her hair tied back in a bandana, designs of murder.

“There will always be room for you here, V,” Saul announced. “You’re family now.” She felt his grip on her tighten microscopically, and she did the only thing she thought was appropriate for the situation.

She threw a fist in the air. “Aldecaldos!”

It was the magic word. The clan responded in kind (except the blonde), led in the reply by Saul. It seemed to signal the conclusion of the gathering; the murmur of chatter filled the air as bodies began to drift away from the fire, shooting back glances of the same variation as before, although V thought there were fewer hostile glares. Mitch clapped her shoulder kindly before heading off into the darkness.

“Your tent is the last one on the left after the ripperdoc’s place,” Saul shared. “I can’t promise we won’t use it when you’re not around, but you’ll always have a place to rest your head when you’re here.”

“Saul, that’s really generous, you didn’t need—”

He laid a finger on her lips, stopping any protests she had in their tracks. He dipped his head close to her ear for his next words, and V did her best to ignore the curious looks from the clan members that still lingered. “My tent is across from yours. I’ll be there in 20 minutes, and I want you naked in my bed in 19.” V sighed with contentment. She had known that was what he was going to say, and the simplicity, the predictability, of it loosened some sort of knot in her heart.

“You’re the boss,” she murmured. His hand slid down and gave her ass a not-so-subtle squeeze before letting her go. She made a mental note to check the shadows for any blondes with knives as she headed in the direction of the ripperdoc’s.

\---

“So who…is that…blonde…that was giving me…death stares…earlier?” V panted out between searing kisses. Saul had been on her from the second the tent flaps had closed behind him, pressing her down into the mattress on a wooden pallet, not even bothering to disrobe. She was still struggling to get his pants off of him, but his mouth was relentless.

To his credit, Saul didn’t even pause his affections, only moving to bite and lick down her throat so he could talk more easily. “That’s Scout…she wants…we’ve…”

“I don’t need an explanation, just assurance that she won’t sneak in here and flatline me later,” she mumbled against his hair, tone amused. She used her temporary freedom to finally yank the button and zipper on his pants open, shoving them roughly down his hips to his thighs and letting him handle the rest. He grinned at her devilishly from his knees as he kicked them aside, finally leveling the playing field. V closed her hand around his length, giving him a few experimental strokes; his smirk transformed into open lips, letting a needy groan escape.

“No…chance,” Saul gritted out between clenched teeth, his breath hitching as V bent and took him into her mouth. He spoke the next words toward the ceiling of the tent, his head lolling back as she slid her hot, wet mouth along his length. “You’d…win any day…of the week— _ that’s so fuckin’ good, pretty. _ ” He arched his hips forward, trying to press further into her, but she pulled back with a wet suck.

“Oh, yeah?” Call her selfish, but she could stand to hear some more of that right about now. She closed her mouth over his violently, delving past his lips with her tongue, claiming her dominion over him. He might run the Aldecaldos, but right now, she called the shots. Splaying her hands flat on his chest, she gave him a good, solid push, sending him to his back on the mattress. Saul blinked in surprise, but V only offered a predatory smile; moments later, she was climbing astride his hips, rocking against his length until they were both whimpering. “Keep talking. Why would I win?” She didn’t give him a chance to start answering before she shifted her hips and sank down onto him, rolling her pelvis hard enough to send her eyes to the back of her head; she bit her lip hard to muffle the moan she was holding in.

“Faster—smarter—stronger— _ sexier—”  _ She drank down the broken praise he was offering her like water, each word punctuated by a thrust that pushed her closer to coming apart. “Prettier—deadlier—sneakier—” His hands were tangled with hers, bent at the elbow to offer her resistance to push against as she chased her end, finally letting one side go to lick his thumb and press it against her clit. “Better—so fucking good, V—the best—”

Anything else on the tip of his tongue was drowned out by her orgasm, warmth filling her veins like liquid glitter; she couldn’t stop a wail from slipping out as she trembled on top of him, and felt him sit up and clap a hand over her mouth to choke out the sound. A few stuttering thrusts later and Saul was finishing inside her, grunting deep in his chest with satisfaction. He replaced his hand over her mouth with his lips. He tasted bittersweet, like an impossible dream. She allowed herself to be shifted off and stretched against him, torsos pressed together and legs tangled in what she wished could be an infinite puzzle. 

“Are…are you crying, pretty?” V felt his thumb on her face brush through moisture and realized that she was. She hurriedly wiped them away.

“Yeah, you’re just that good,” she chuckled weakly, and was met with a look that said he was definitely not buying what she was selling. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and raised an eyebrow at her.

“Saul, I’m dying.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and constructive feedback always welcome!
> 
> Come hang out with me on Tumblr! It's CP2077ThotSociety, or check out the #cp2077thotsociety hashtag and use it for your thirst, too!
> 
> I did recently post both Spotify playlists I have for Heat and this fic, if you're interested.


	7. The Argument Extension Remix Pt. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm pleased with how all three parts of this remix fit neatly within the existing chapter 11. You'll see some repeat text at the end of this as another bookend.
> 
> UGH GROSS ALL THESE FEELINGS. Blech. xD
> 
> Suggested listening: "Boris," Lo-Fang

“... and there’s  _ nothing _ we can do for you? I mean it, V. Name it.” Saul looked so goddamn earnest, forehead pressed to hers, that V was afraid she might start crying again.

“I don’t think so, Saul. You’ve already done a lot.” She offered him a wistful smile, twirling a finger around the skinny braid that was tucked behind his ear. “Do me a favor and don’t tell Pan, okay? I want to do it myself.” He nodded his understanding, turning his face to press kisses onto the palm of her hand. “I’m kind of glad the Wraiths snatched you up. Sorry they were so mean about it.”

He laughed softly. “Good thing you came along, pretty. They definitely weren’t gonna give me a cigar.” 

“No shit. Hey, get up and put your pants back on. I’ve got an idea.” He quirked an eyebrow at her but did as she asked. She grabbed the blanket from the bed, wrapping herself in it; it was a little risky to not have anything on underneath, but fuck it—she could taste her mortality sharply in her mouth after their talk. She wasn’t exactly worried about streaking in the desert.

They tiptoed several yards away from the encampment, until V spotted a rocky outcropping they tucked themselves behind. She shook out the blanket and stretched out on it, shivering against the chill of the night. Saul didn’t need any prompting and was soon moving inside her again, whispering the sweetest nothings with something approaching reverence: how perfect she was for him, what fearsome leaders they would be together, how beautiful their babies would be—things V didn’t even know she needed to mourn. Her tears were cold on her cheeks as she clung to him, unraveling with her eyes full of starlight.

\---

“Saul. Saul.  _ ”  _ V whispered right up against his ear, but it seemed to have no effect on the man slumbering next to her. The sun had barely started to peek over the horizon, but early morning light was already filtering its way into the tent. The camp was still quiet, but she knew it wouldn’t be long before people started to stir. “ _ Saul.” _

“Hmm,” came the sleepy grunt next to her, and she felt his body stretch languidly before he clamped his arm down around her waist even tighter than it had been. She wriggled in mostly-feigned frustration.

“I’ve got to get back into my tent before anyone sees anything and starts talking.” He did crack an eye open when she said that, blinking sleepily.

“Let ‘em fuckin’ talk,” he mumbled, burrowing his face into the crook of her neck. He pressed his open mouth against her skin in a half-awake attempt at a kiss.

“You don’t mean that,” she replied, running her fingers through his hair, combing out the tangles from the evening’s dalliances. “I know you didn’t miss that my induction last night wasn’t received warmly by some people. And I don’t just mean Scout.”

Another grumble, this time from low in his chest; V could feel it in her ribcage. He knew she was right. “Fine. Hand me that radio, would you?” She stretched backward, grabbing the handheld CB and passing it to him. He took it without letting go of her. “Hey, Mitch.”

“Yeah, Saul. Go ahead.”

“I’ve gotta skip the morning huddle. Divide the recon work like we discussed.”

“Copy.” V could hear the knowledge in Mitch’s voice from the sly tone he adopted. 

“So subtle,” V muttered, and Saul pressed his lips to hers briefly to silence her. His smirk was audible as he trailed his mouth down her skin.

“I said let ‘em fuckin’ talk,” he intoned, voice full of sleep and lust. “I want to lick you until you’re begging and then fuck you so hard you won’t remember anyone before me.” He punctuated by sucking hard at her hip bone, a bruise quickly forming on the unpadded skin. “Got some time to make up for, pretty.”

Who was she to argue with such persuasion? She answered only by plunging her hands into his hair and groaning softly at the first press of his hot mouth into her center. She stared, unseeing, at the chair in the corner as he nudged her toward orgasm with his tongue and fingers, gently but steadily, until she was tumbling over the edge—and could see Johnny zap into existence, one foot bouncing with irritation as he puffed away on a non-existent cigarette.

“If this is what you wanted, you could’ve just asked, kitten,” he said, promptly ruining her high.

“Go away, asshole,” she snapped at him mentally, grateful for the way her leg hooked onto Saul’s shoulder as he filled her blocked the pouty engram from view. She moaned, clinging to what she knew would be the last true moments of escape for a long time. He was whispering to her again, knowing now what that did to her: how good she felt; how he liked the noises she made while he was inside her; how he didn’t care about anything except making sure she was well-fucked before she left; groaning her name into her ear as he finished inside her, except this time she knew Johnny was hearing every word.

\---

**V [11:04 AM]:**

_ Pan, I’m headed out a little early. Sorry _

_ to miss you. Talk soon. Don’t believe what anyone _

_ tells you when you get back here. _

**PANAM [11:05 AM]:**

_ V, what makes you think I haven’t been _

_ getting a play-by-play already? ; ) Stay safe. _

She slid her phone into her pocket and swung a leg up onto her bike, revving the engine waving a farewell at the Aldecaldos gathered by the paddock: Mitch, Cassidy, Teddy, Carol. Saul had tried to walk her to the bike and she had put her foot down.

\--- __

_ “You’re making it harder for yourself every time you let them see you with me. I’m an outsider still,” she had told him as he kissed her forehead inside his tent. _

_ “But what if this is the last—” _

_ “It won’t be. You know Pan will have me out here two weeks from now helping her with some wild scheme you will absolutely hate, even though it’s the right thing to do for the clan.” _

_ A huff of breath, but no response; it was closer to the truth than he was probably ready to admit. “Okay, okay. See you around, pretty.” He had sent her past the tent flaps into the desert with a firm smack on the ass and a grin on her face. _

\---

It didn’t matter how fast she took the corners, how hard she revved the throttle, or how narrowly she cleared traffic lights on the way back to Night City; she couldn’t shake Johnny off the back of her bike or out of her mind.

“Fuckin’ glad you got that bootleg gonk out of your system, V.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Johnny,” she shot back, narrowly avoiding jumping a curb as she swerved to avoid some pedestrians.

“I know he’s ripped, but I bet I could take him—”

“I doubt it, but why would you need to?” She was splitting lanes as they reached the south edge of Watson, maneuvering between cars in a concerted effort to have this ride over as soon as fucking possible.

“—I definitely have better hair, no contest, so I don’t know why you’d—”

The bike skidded to a stop inches from a bumper at the intersection by the parking garage, turning sharply to maneuver it up the ramp. V whipped to a halt inside the closest spot to the elevator, killing the engine. “Because he’s not you, that’s the whole fucking point, Johnny!” She tore his engram arms away from her to dismount, stalking into the open elevator so quickly she was almost running, desperate to get away from this exchange.

He glitched into the car right next to her—not even giving her a moment’s respite. “No one is, doll, it’s not their fault.”

Oh, would you shut up ?!” It had burst physically from her lips, and V was grateful she was alone. “Saul and I come from the same family, I know what he’s about, he takes care of his people. Things are simple with him, which no one has ever fuckin’ said about your terrorist ass!”

She could feel her heart pounding in her throat, but she was blessedly free from the throbbing arousal that had come with her anger as of late. Just like with Goro, her encounter with Saul seemed to have exhausted the drug’s effects. “Saul cares about me and I’m sorry if it rubs you the wrong way, but last I checked this is still my fucking life until you kill me or we figure out an alternative.”

V charged off the elevator and down the hall with one goal in mind: get to her place and get into the shower. She was dirtry from her desert outing, yes, but she also knew Johnny wouldn’t follow her in there. He’d barely been back in her head for a few hours and she was already raring for a break.

She slid the door of her place shut with a resounding slam after getting in, pretending it would stop him from following. He walked right through it. 

“And who says I don’t care about you?”

V swung Panam’s rifle off of her and yanked off her boots angrily. “You tried to kill me, you gonk.” Her jacket quickly followed. 

“I said I was sorry about that!” Johnny protested, unable to tear his eyes away as she stripped angrily in front of him. The last thing he should be right now is turned on, but he found himself compelled to shrug out of his combat vest and kick his boots off. “It’s not just anyone I call a ‘good girl’ and ‘gorgeous’ when they’re suckin’ me off.”  _ Man, that sounded like a much stronger argument in my head. _

V snorted in disbelief as she shimmied out of her pants, still not looking at him. “Did you hear yourself just now?” 

‘Yes, Christ, okay—” He pulled off his tank top as she doffed hers, cheating a little to glitch his pants away in time for her to turn around to find him just as naked as she was, stripped down to their skivvies, save Johnny’s dog tags and aviators. “Fine, it’s not just any chick I  _ put to bed _ after they’re done havin’ a fuckin’ drug-induced  _ sexual episode _ . ” Now that was a valid point.

“What the hell?” She blinked at his bare body. Johnny was slim where Saul was broad, sinewy where Saul was bulky, scattered with scars that came to a head where the skin of his shoulder met the cold metal of his arm. They were very different from each other, but it was impossible for V to deny Johnny’s appeal, especially when she knew what lurked beneath the waistband of his boxers. He smirked as he felt her struggle to take her eyes off him.

“This is how you stop a fight with your output, darlin’. Just get naked.” His shit-eating grin was too much.

“I’m not your output, Johnny. Jesus.” She had gotten caught in front of the mirror, examining the bruise Saul had marked her hip with— dark purple and even a little tender to the touch.

“If it’s about marks left, I can blow that one out of the water in about five minutes, _ pretty _ . ” His voice had pitched downward and he saw her stiffen at the sound of her pet name in his mouth.

“Or do you want to wait for the next round of Heat so you can pretend you need an excuse?”

V said nothing. She was trembling with anger at this _ fucking program’s _ arrogance, insensitivity, and the audacity to call out what she was still wrestling with herself: she  _ would _ probably hit it without Heat’s influence. Her mind raced, grasping at straws to formulate retribution with the appropriate level of pettiness; the idea struck her with surprising clarity a moment later.

She marched back to where she had hung her jacket and fished her phone from its pocket, still refusing to look at Johnny as he tracked her movement across the room and back, the device disappearing with her into the shower. She could feel his confusion, but knew she was now off-limits as he saw her panties fly out from the partition and heard the water jet on. 

_ That definitely didn’t go like I fuckin’ thought _ , Johnny fumed to himself as he paced the floor, not bothering to glitch any clothes back on. He was lost in his thoughts when he heard a clatter on the porcelain sink; V had tossed her phone out from behind the shower wall. The screen was unlocked, the last messages she sent still readable. He knew it was a trap.

But Johnny Silverhand was a weak man sometimes. He glitched to hover above it. 

**[V 01:22 PM]:**

_ Hey, Dum Dum, you up? It’s V, the merc with the style from All Foods. _

**[DUMx2 01:22 PM]:**

_ i remember u, soft n vicious _

**[V 01:23 PM]:**

_ I’ve got a problem I think black lace will fix. You got the _

_ hook-up for me? _

**[DUMx2 01:24 PM]:**

_ lace will fix all ur problems  _

**[DUMx2 01:24 PM]:**

_ where and when _

**[V 01:25 PM]:**

_ Think my “style” is good enough for Totentanz? _

_ I’ve got options if you want to see ‘em. _

**[DUMx2 01:26 PM]:**

_ i sure fuckin do, juicy _

**[V 01:26 PM]:**

; )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading! Comments and constructive feedback always welcome. :D
> 
> Come hang out with me on Tumblr; it's CP2077ThotSociety, or check out #cp2077thotsociety and tag your thirst with it. Playlists for both fics are posted there as well. :D


	8. B-Side: Vik's Treatment Redux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is Marshmallow_Mel's and shenanigan_manifesto's fault, so if you don't like it, @them, not me. xD
> 
> You'll see some overlapping text from Heat's Chapter 7 for context. :D
> 
> TW: Breath play
> 
> Suggested listening: "Lucky You," Deftones

**V [04:14 PM]:**

_Hey, Vik? Can I ask an embarrassing question?_

**RIPPER VIK [04:15 PM]:**

_I’m your ripperdoc, Birdie. You can try but you’ll fail. ; )_

**V [04:16 PM]:**

_This drug that’s in me—does it matter how, uh, enthusiastic_

_I am in search of relief? Is it going to get weaker the more time_

_that goes by?_

**RIPPER VIK [04:16 PM]:**

…

**RIPPER VIK [04:18 PM]:**

_Congratulations on getting laid, first of all. : P To answer_

_your question: hard to say, but the general rule with_

_chemical control is the bigger the dose, the harder_

_the punch. Makes sense that a big one would knock_

_it back for a longer period of time._

**RIPPER VIK [04:20 PM]:**

_The further along you get in the half-life, the less_

_severe your symptoms_ should _be, but there is_

_a small chance you’ll have the opposite reaction,_

_go hard in the other direction until the heat burns_

_itself out inside ya. : (_

**RIPPER VIK [04:21 PM]:**

_So just be careful… and lemme know if you need_

_to borrow some restraints or some shit ; )_

**V [04:22 PM]:**

_Shut up, you gonk.: P (P.S. Thanks) :*_

\---

 _Great. Just fuckin’ great._ It had been three days since V and Goro had infiltrated Arasaka Industrial Park and each other. They snuck in, hacked the parade float, and got out without dropping a single body. V’s senses had felt hyperactive; she could almost smell gonks as she slunk up on them to squeeze the consciousness out of their lungs and shove them in the nearest receptacle. 

Her head since then had been remarkably clear; she kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the itchy heat to start crawling under her skin or the pangs of want to start streaking through her, but they just…hadn’t. She had been more productive in the last 72 hours than she had been in the last month: neutralizing cyberpsychos for Regina, collecting all sorts of people and things for Wakako (that woman really needed a personal assistant so she didn’t keep losing all her shit), and most importantly, finagling a meet with the VooDoo Boys, who had arranged to purchase the chip currently nestled into her brain. She hadn’t even needed any blockers (beyond the ones she needed to be taking to keep Johnny’s engram from eating her up any faster, which she continued to ignore).

Waking up today, though? There was that shoe; it had dropped hard, straight onto her chest. Her blood was on fire; every nerve ending was prickled in anticipation of something that wasn’t coming; the air was hot in her lungs going in and breathing out; she felt her skin sweating even as she stood under the cold spray of the shower, body pressed against the tile in a desperate search for relief.

Even Johnny could tell she was in a bad way. “Guess that shit’s gettin’ worse, huh?” He patted her freshly-showered shoulder, and watched from behind his aviators with shocked eyes as she whimpered and dragged his hand over to close around her throat.

“Oh, kitten, I don’t think you really want that.” He felt the muscles of her throat move as she swallowed. _Christ_. “Wish you did,” he mumbled, more to himself than her.

“I don’t need to show you the video, you’re inside me, it doesn’t count.” 

“Nah, we’re not playin’ that dangerous game,” he said, exerting every ounce of self-control he possessed to unwrap his fingers from her neck. “Take your blockers and go see the good doctor, maybe he’s got something to help.” And then there was nothing but blue static as he winked out of existence, leaving V with no choice but to follow instructions. 

Her hands shook as she popped two red blockers into her mouth and swallowed them with some coffee—it felt like she’d had more coffee in the past week than she had in her life up to this point. The flush receded from her skin slightly after a few minutes, and she rummaged around for the absolute minimum amount of clothing to make herself street legal as she pinged Vik on the holo.

“Birdie? What’s up?” It was his standard, warm Vik greeting, and then she heard him catch sight of her, wild-eyed in his screen. “Holy shit. Have you—”

“Taken two blockers, had so much caffeine I can see noises, and stood in a cold shower until I was a fuckin’ prune? Yes, Vik. All of it.”

“Show me your arm.” V did: her pink, tender, swollen wrist; the deep red punctures; the color creeping up her forearm and down across her palm. He slid his glasses down his nose disbelievingly, as if the lenses were playing tricks on him.

“I need help, Vik. Can I come see you? Now?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, exo-glove still on, and suddenly she couldn’t take her eyes off it. She felt a curl of desire deep inside her belly and shifted her legs together as she threw her hair into a ponytail, trying to ease the pressure away. “I don’t know what all I’ve got to help you, birdie, but I’ll try.”

“I do. Get your restraints out.” She saw him freeze. “I’m on my way.”

\---

V wasn’t sure what the plan was as she jogged down the alley toward Vik’s clinic. A shot, a pill, a kiss, a fuck, a choke? Who knows what she was asking for—she just knew she _needed_ , and trusted Vik to give. She doubted either of them had considered a repeat of their post-diagnosis encounter; some part of her knew she could just as easily visit Jig-Jig Street and take it out on some joytoy. _“The most effective chem bursts come from encounters with partners, though. You know, familiarity and safety and all that.”_ She could hear his own words bounce around in her brain as she descended the stairs, making sure to rattle his gate loudly as she opened it to slip inside and locked it securely behind her. She moved forward into the clinic, but saw no signs of the ripperdoc: his stool was empty at his desk, his TV that always had the latest fight blaring strangely quiet, the clinic chair empty and the light above it off. _Did I scare him away?_ She shrugged out of her jacket and tossed it onto the stool, eager to get any and all fabric off her sensitive skin.

“Vik?”

“Behind you, V.” 

She spun, and found him staring her down from next to the punching bag he had strung up from the ceiling. He had shed his typical blue button down, stethoscope, and med belt, leaving him in a tightly-stretched white tank top and dark pants. His arms were crossed over his muscular chest. Any composure she had gained on the short walk over left her in the same whoosh that flooded warmth down into her core at the sight. Her mouth went dry, her tongue darting out to wet her lips with only limited success.

“Come over here.”

Her feet obeyed unbidden; she felt herself float over to face him. Her breath was already coming in short, shallow sips; her vision had a cloudy, red vignette around the edges. She felt his eyes rove over her clinically from behind his glasses, assessing her current state of undoing, and fought the urge to look down, away, up, anywhere but at him. 

It was several agonizing seconds before he finally moved, and V was surprised when it was to lift his glasses off and fold them, setting them on a nearby shelf. She was struck by the sight of him without the lenses hiding his eyes; she didn’t trust her own vision right now to know what color they were truly, but they were bright and piercing and if she hadn’t been breathless before, she sure as shit was now. Vik slid his hand to rest firmly against her cheek, fingers pushing back into her still-damp hair. V was certain she mewled, and saw his pupils darken. “Are you sure about this, birdie?” She nodded enthusiastically, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. He stepped closer to her then, closing the distance between them to miniscule, his thumb curling around her chin to rest on her bottom lip. “You’re worse off than last time. I don’t know how nice I can be about it.”

“I don’t want it nice, Vik.” She nipped at the tip of his thumb to prove her point, but didn’t have a chance to illustrate further before he was surrounding her, pressing her back against the punching bag as his lips covered hers in a vicious kiss. She whined in surprise and delight, eagerly letting his tongue explore the recesses of her mouth. Her hands reached for him, getting precious few seconds to smooth over the hard planes of his chest and stomach before she felt her arms being stretched behind her. They curved around the cylindrical weight of the punching bag, Vik’s mouth still assaulting hers as his iron grip guided her hands as close together as they could be. He fumbled with something just out of her reach; V heard and felt one firm click and then another. And then, she discovered with a thrill, she was not able to follow him as he stepped away from her, pulling her bottom lip between his own before letting go. She was trapped, stretched against the punching bag, its shape forcing her chest outward. An experimental attempt to tug her arms apart revealed the pressure of wide, padded cuffs around each of her wrists. She was planted firmly on the floor, but if her sneakers were to come off, she knew she would be resting on the balls of her feet and not the whole sole. She was a feast on display; her eyes met Vik’s and saw him staring with an intensity she’d never seen outside of when he was deep in ripperdoc concentration. When he spoke, she barely recognized the low, rumbling timbre of want in his voice.

“If you want me to stop, what are you going to say, birdie?” 

“Um…” V cast around for something she wouldn’t promptly forget. “Samurai.”

The corners of his lips twitched, but he didn’t say anything, only nodded in acknowledgement. His free hand went to the exo-glove then, starting to loosen its fasteners; she hadn’t noticed he still had it on, and that same hyper-fixation that had happened on the phone took over her vision again. “Vik?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you, uh,” she swallowed thickly, “leave that on?”

His hands froze briefly, the motion for removal quickly turning into one of re-fastening, a baseball player adjusting his gloves before the big swing. He stepped close to her again, the hooks glinting as he set his hand on her collarbone. His firm touch and the cold prick of metal sent a shiver down her spine as they left a stinging trail down her chest to hook into her shirt. “You particularly like this top?”

The answer would have been the same if it had been her most precious article of clothing. “No.”

“Good.” The hooks punctured the thin fabric, the tension of them ripping down the garment pulling her and the punching bag forward slightly. The fabric remnants fell defeated to either side of her as he sliced through the bottom hem, leaving her bare before him, chest rising and falling rapidly. 

“Christ, V, you’re a fucking vision,” the soft praise was at direct odds with the tension in his body as he stepped forward into her space again, exo-glove rising again to brush the metal tips delicately over one dusky nipple.

Her entire body twitched at the sensation, head jerking back against the bag violently as she keened. A few more faint passes and her nipple was pebbled so tight it actually hurt. The contrast between it and her other breast, which Vik was palming softly with his warm, organic hand, was causing a short-circuit in her brain. “Vik, please…”

“Please what, birdie?” He was pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the column of her neck now, his attentions muffling his voice.

“More.” His only response was a sharp tweak of a nipple with his fingers, and she jerked against him involuntarily. He repeated the tease over and over, alternating warm fingers and cold exo-pinches, until she was a trembling, messy puddle of need at his mercy. She could feel the moisture below her legs damp on the crotch of her shorts; she expended the reserves of her mental energy to toe her feet out of her sneakers, one after the other, and swing a leg around his hip, pulling him flush against her. His grunt of surprise replaced itself with a low groan as she ground the juncture of her thighs against his crotch, rewarded with the delicious press of his erection against her. 

“ _Fuck_ , V,” were the only words he managed to get out before she angled her head to catch his mouth with hers again, insistently licking her way past his teeth, moaning with relief as she felt his hands tugging her shorts open impatiently and shoving them down her legs along with her thong, the fabric dropping to the floor with a soft _whump._ His beautifully dexterous fingers were plunging inside her in her next breath, two digits sunk in up to the second knuckle without preamble, curling and moving so immediately she had to wrench her lips from his to shout her surprise.

“ _Christ,_ Vik, your hands are so _fucking good—_ ” Her next words were stolen from her, swallowed by the dark chuckle from his throat as he kissed her again, his thumb bending to flick against her swollen clit, pressing and circling before pulling away to brush over it delicately. His tongue mimicked the motion against her own, and she felt her eyes threatening to roll into the back of her head as an orgasm rushed up on her at the speed of sound. 

The points of his glove dug into the soft skin of her hip as he gripped her, steadying the sway of her and the punching bag as she rocked desperately against his hand, separating their mouths enough to whisper against hers. “You like that, birdie? Can anyone else touch you like this, make you a fucking mess like this?”

What else could V tell him but the truth? “ _No_ , only you, Vik— _Vik!”_ He had scraped his blunt thumbnail over her sensitive flesh once, twice, three times and sent her rushing headlong into a powerful climax, pulses of hot pleasure pushing spasms through her body, the wet sound of his fingers inside her audible over her moans and whimpers as he stroked her through it, making her whine from overstimulation before he finally relented.

Vik pulled his fingers out of her, only to immediately raise them to her mouth, where she licked and sucked at them eagerly, flush-faced, wild-eyed, and at his mercy in front of him. The feeling of it, the sight of her, and the small, greedy sounds she was making, shot a bolt of desire to his already painfully-hard cock, making it throb uncomfortably. He pressed his palm against his crotch, but it offered little relief.

Even as she cleaned his fingers of her own taste and the haze of Heat controlled more and more of her vision, V did not miss Viktor’s uncomfortable shifting against his own hand. She felt her head dip downward out of instinct, mouth trying to indicate her willingness despite her physical inability to do so. Her arms ached with the stretch of the motion. She pulled her mouth away from his digits. “Vik.” His eyes snapped to hers from where he had been watching her mouth. “I’ve got somewhere you can put that. Please. If you want.”

“If I want…” he muttered in disbelief, more to himself than her as he unfastened his jeans in record time, shucking them down over his hips with his boxers, freeing his straining member from the confines of the fabric. V whistled lowly.

“Now _that_ is a preem prescription for my problem,” she said, with no hint of irony, and he couldn’t help the amused snort that escaped him. She realized the ridiculousness of her statement and managed a weak giggle, her lust still coloring all her responses.

Vik wrapped one hand around himself and reached the one with the exo-glove out toward one of her thighs, encouraging it around his waist like it had been earlier. V didn’t need more prompting, swinging her other up to twine with her ankle behind his hips. She felt the metal appendages dig into her side as he gripped her, running his head through her slick folds until she was panting frantically for relief, her eyes locked between her legs in anticipation. “Vik, please…”

“Tell me you want this, V,” he said, sounding as undone as she felt. She felt her head being gently forced upward, unsure of how until she felt the press of warm fingers and cold exo-glove curling around her throat. _Oh._

She swallowed hard, knowing he could feel the muscles of her neck moving. “I want you, Vik,” she mumbled through the thick, red fog penetrating her brain, her hips bucking ineffectually toward him. “I _need_ you inside me.”

“I bet you fuckin’ do, birdie,” he muttered in reply, pushing himself forward into her slowly. “I’ll take care of you.”

A long, broken moan escaped V as Vik stretched her open; he was _big_ , and there was a sting at the edges of the satisfaction of being finally filled. Her head lolled, exposing her throat more, and she felt the grip on her neck tighten slightly.

He nuzzled his head in, pressing them cheek-to-cheek as he finally fully seated himself inside her, giving V the time she panted out that she needed to adjust. They stilled together momentarily, chests rising and falling in unison, before Vik asked “Ready?” gently, and she nodded her assent.

The first soft rock of his hips against hers had them both groaning unabashedly, her walls resisting even the slightest withdrawal. It wasn’t long before he was snapping forward hard, each thrust making the punching bag sway slightly as she encouraged him with halting, disjointed pleas and gasps. “Vik—please— _fuck_ —so good—”

“You’re so fuckin’ sexy, V,” he growled, grinding into her enough to make her cry out before withdrawing again. “Wanna feel you come around me.” Her arms pulled helplessly against her restraints; she was dying to touch herself, to grip his wrist and encourage him to squeeze her throat, but all she could do was wriggle her fingers fruitlessly and ask for what she needed.

“My neck— _harder_ , Vik, please.” The request wrung an animalistic noise out of him, pressing his fingers deeper into the sides of her throat.

V was in absolute pieces now; Vik had reduced her to a bundle of raw, exposed nerves, sparking wildly under his command. Her blood roared in her ears as he squeezed his hand around her throat, cold metal implements of the exo-glove pricking at the skin on the sides of her neck, making her lightheaded.

Her cunt throbbed around him, trembling thighs working hard against his thrusts, looking for friction. She didn’t need much, and he could tell; he released his bruising grip on her hip just long enough to press his fingers in tight and hard against her clit. “Come on, V, give it to me,” he encouraged, the sweetness of his voice at odds with the savagery of his movement inside her.

She didn’t need telling twice; his hand around her throat slackened as her walls clenched down around him. The rush of oxygen, dopamine, and ecstasy ripped a feral scream from her throat, her entire body pulsating with sensation as Vik’s hands crushed her hips in his grasp and fucked her through it. He roared his release against her ear seconds later, punching into her with bone-rattling thrusts as he emptied himself inside.

They stayed there for several minutes, trembling around each other, V still bound to the punching bag, harsh breaths filling the air along with the scent of sex and sweat, before someone spoke.

“Vik.” 

“Oh, shit, sorry, V.” He knew what she was going to ask before she said it, pressing up against her to reach around and unhook the restraints from one another; the motion forced him, still half-hard, deeper into her with a wet squelch. She whimpered as the pull on her shoulders dissipated, rolling the stiffness out as she wrapped her arms around him. Vik seemed to withdraw from her with as much reluctance as she felt about him doing it, setting her down on shaky legs, but making no move to let go of her. She was grateful for the anchor; walking was out of the question right now.

Eventually, she drew back from their embrace, reaching toward the shelf for his glasses while he still held their torsos flush together. She opened the arms and slid the frames gently back onto his face, smiling as she did so. “Well, hello again, Doctor.”

He shot a lopsided grin at her, catching her arm as it went to pull away. “Let’s see here,” he said with faux thoughtfulness, looking up and down the length of it as he flicked open the restraint still around her wrist and tossed it aside. “Symptoms seem to have abated.” And he was right: all of her color and tenderness was gone, pin pricks reduced to nearly non-existent. He repeated the process with her other arm.

“You abated past, present, and future symptoms with that fuck, Vik. How are you single?”

She saw his cheeks flush at the question, nodding that she could stand on her own when he went to pull away. She shrugged out of her ruined tank top, tossing it into the trash can nearby before stepping back into her bottoms and pulling them up. Her nakedness seemed to make him blush further. “Aw, shit, V, sorry. Here—” He went to pull off his own tank top, but she _tsk_ ed kindly at him, stopping the gesture.

“If you want to strip to show off, go ahead, Vik, but I’ve got a jacket over there.” She thumbed toward his desk as she shoved her feet back into her shoes and walked over, shrugging it on and zipping it up. “Ta-da!”

He chuckled as he finished zipping his pants back up, and V felt a little pang of disappointment that she couldn’t catch one last glimpse of his impressive physique; mostly, though, she felt clear-headed, temperately comfortable, and generally like she wasn’t about to jump out of her skin any longer. She picked his stethoscope up off the desk as he finished buttoning the blue shirt he had miraculously produced from somewhere, meeting him halfway across the room to loop it around his neck. “There we go, good as new.”

“Better than before, I’d say,” he smirked at her.

“Two out of two doctors in this room agree,” she confirmed. “We have got to get you a girl, Vik. Cryin’ shame that weapon’s going to waste.” 

Another flush of pink across his cheeks, but this one wasn’t without a saucy smack on her ass. “Be a lot easier if my booty calls weren’t this preem, birdie.” 

“Sorry about it,” V said, clearly not sorry at all. She gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, Vik.”

“Of course.”

“Oh, I know! I’ll get Misty right on it,” she called playfully as she exited the gate.

“Don’t you dare, V!”

“Doing it right now!” The empty threat echoed down the stairs to the clinic, leaving Vik to shake his head and push a hand through his hair. That was not how he saw his afternoon going.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! :D Comments and constructive feedback always welcome!
> 
> Come hang out on Tumblr! It's CP2077ThotSociety.tumblr.com, or hashtag your thirst with #cp2077thotsociety.
> 
> Please do any and all research appropriate before exploring any new kink with your partner to avoid harm to yourself or others. There is a right and a wrong way to engage in erotic asphyxiation as far as technique is concerned.


	9. Dum Dum’s Hidden Talent Redux Pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @EurodynesAss was very nice to me today and told me to just write whatever I wanted, so I did. And apparently what I wanted was a shit ton of MOOD.
> 
> And dialogue. And choom cheerleader Johnny. Because I am who I am.
> 
> Suggested listening: "Need You Tonight," Welshly Arms (NOT the INXS original, God no)

It was a little embarrassing, really.

V felt it each time she heard her phone ping, or a rattling gangbanger car passed her while she was up in the Northside. A little squeeze behind her sternum, a twitch in her tummy, a pang of longing between her legs. Johnny was getting to be insufferable about it.

“You’re like a fuckin’ schoolgirl, kitten. I can feel it; it’s gross,” he muttered, giving her a playful shove as they walked along the sidewalk and sending her stumbling. She recovered, but not before a homeless man sitting on the corner gave her a suspicious glare.  _ Completely warranted _ . 

“I…am not!” She knew it was pathetic, but it was the best she could bother to manage. Any defense more robust was pointless, anyway; he was inside her, part of her, and she knew he wasn’t lying about feeling her secondhand pangs of anticipation. The veil of her denial was sheer.

She heard the car slowing down before she turned, the engine noise sputtering down to a dull roar and a rough, uneven idle. Enough red optics peered at her from the open windows of the vehicle to cast a little otherworldly glow onto the curb underneath her feet. There were at least six Maelstromers packed inside, eyeing her like a walking cut of fuckable meat. She didn’t stop for them.

“‘Ey, chooms, ain’t this that fleshy merc from ‘tanz a while back?” V looked to see who had spoken as best she could while keeping up her pace. It was a ganger with a metal mohawk implant and a faceplate with thin, diagonal optics slashed across his forehead and eyes. She didn’t recognize him, or the one that answered.

“Think so, Edge! You comin’ back soon, princess? We’ll give you a private tour.” It wasn’t a joke, or even funny, but the goons in the car laughed uproariously. They all looked the same then, empty heads with flashing lights.

Except one—tucked in the back seat, the furthest from her, Dum Dum only became noticeable when his silence contrasted sharply with the snickers of the other occupants of the vehicle. V tilted her head and crouched slightly as she walked, hair hanging off one shoulder as the rest of his optics crept into her view. They were trained on her face, burning a hole into her with their intensity. She jerked her chin slightly by way of greeting, ignoring the leers of the others. “Hey.” She punctuated it by biting her lower lip  _ just _ enough.

He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. His gonks were already howling cruelly, tossing words like “slut” and “meathole” and “chrome chaser” around. Nobody saw the corners of his mouth twitch upward but her. She straightened, and the car lurched ahead, the roar of the engine drowning out everything as it disappeared around the corner ahead of her. The tail lights had barely disappeared when her phone pinged.

**[DUMx2 12:22 PM]:**

_ i wanna tear u apart, vicious _

**[DUMx2 12:22 PM]:**

_ nice n slow _

Johnny whistled lowly, peering over her shoulder at the screen, startling V enough that she jumped. “Jesus, Johnny, don’t do that!”

“Sorry, kitten.” He squeezed her ass affectionately; leave it to him to make casual sexual harassment endearing. “Metal gonk has it as bad for you as you do for him.”

“Nah, it’s not like that,” she lied through her teeth. It was  _ definitely  _ like that. The paper-thin veil had been ripped clean away by that gonk-mobile and its passengers.

“Sure, and I’m not lines of code on a chip in your brain,” he responded evenly, pressing a sweet, chaste kiss to her forehead, right there in the middle of the sidewalk.  _ Did it count as PDA if he was invisible to everyone else?  _ He chuckled before she could even register her own surprise. “I told you, I don’t care if you get at him, V. He’s right for barkin’ up this sexy-ass tree.”

“Johnny, did you just call me a sexy tree?” Her fingers twitched into action, ticking out a response.

**[V 12:25 PM]:**

_ Where and when, big shot? My schedule is _

_ full, I’m very busy and important. ; ) _

“Not my finest work, I’ll admit it.” He fell into step beside her as she continued on her interrupted journey; she had only been half a block from the apartment complex she had in her sights, and stepped into the empty lobby. 

**[DUMx2 12:27 PM]:**

_ youll still be full, dont worry _

**[DUMx2 12:28 PM]:**

_ tanz on tues? _

**[V 12:29 PM]:**

_ Is Tinnitus playing? Can’t stand that  _

_ shit if I’m not rolling, barely can if I am. _

**[DUMx2 12:30 PM]:**

_ nah, just a gonk ass dj _

**[V 12:31 PM]:**

_ Gonna make all your chooms foam at _

_ the mouth if I show? _

**[DUMx2 12:32 PM]:**

_ probably, fuckin tease _

“He’s right, now you’re just teasin’ him. That’s not nice, even for you,” Johnny murmured in her ear. He had backed her into a corner and up against a dirty vending machine; he had his hands around her waist, pulling her body against him. She could feel something hard press against her hips.

“What is it with you and watching, anyway, Johnny? I’m assuming you’re coming along for this,” she raised her eyebrows at him, her choice of words not accidental.

“I’ll be good and won’t jump in unless you ask, promise.”

“Why do I not believe you?”

“Because you’re smart, kitten.”

**[V 12:34 PM]:**

_ We’ll see. _

\---

**[V 06:26 PM]:**

_ Tongue or nipples? _

**[DUMx2 06:27 PM]:**

_ what kinda gonk ass question is that _

**[V 06:28 PM]:**

_ Just pick one, loser. _

**[DUMx2 06:29 PM]:**

_ nips, theres 2 of em _

There was a moment of regret that she had asked, and then V laid back in the chair, shivering at the touch of cold vinyl on her bare back. She looked up at the piercer. “Go ahead with both of ‘em.”

She distracted herself by watching clouds of digital cigarette smoke puff from the figure leaning against the wall; watching him wince and rub his chest as the first sharp pinch of the needle moved through her was amusing enough to distract her from the pain.

\---

_ “They’re hot. Suit ya.” V hummed her thanks absentmindedly. Johnny had caught her staring at herself topless in the mirror for the 367th time since Friday, when Dum Dum had texted her and she’d gotten a wild hair to get her nipples pierced. Advances in medicine meant most piercings only required a couple of days to recover; they had only been swollen and tender the day after the appointment, and Vik had declared them healed this morning in the clinic while blushing hard enough to put a tomato to shame. _

_ She didn’t even know why she’d gotten them, really. V didn’t have much metal in her: some earrings, a couple nostril piercings, but that was it. She had been walking without a real destination after making a package drop, her mind on Totentanz and the borg who had weaseled his way into her brain. She was meeting him on his turf  _ again _ ; in the power-play scheme of things, it was a point in his favor. Was there even a power play happening here any more? It wasn’t about being petty to Johnny any longer. He was surprisingly gung-ho about it all. The Heat had been flushed out of her system for almost two weeks now.  _ So then what was the deal? _ She had seen the blinking neon sign then, and was in the chair before she even knew what was happening. _

_ “You okay, V? You’re all slushy up here.” He tapped his head, cigarette in hand. _

_ “Yeah, I know, I’m just…” _

_ "Killer sex makes you do dumb shit sometimes.” He grinned cheekily at her, and she couldn’t help but feel weirdly grateful for this walking, talking brain tumor. _

_ “Johnny, do you mind if—” _

_ “—you take a blocker before Totentanz? No, kitten, I don’t. I know I getcha afterward. Escape into your weird, chromedome sexcapade.” He waggled his eyebrows so ridiculously she couldn’t help but snort at him. _

_ “Thanks, Johnny.” _

_ “Sure thing, kitten.” _

_ \--- _

It was pouring down rain, and even having Delamain drop her right in front of the abandoned hotel that housed Totentanz wasn’t enough to keep her from getting drenched almost to the bone. Her leather pants stuck uncomfortably to her thighs as she walked to the rickety elevator and punched the UP button. She took a minute to survey herself in the blurrily reflective chrome: her hair was wild and wavy around her face, and her eye liner was definitely smudgier than she’d meant it to be. On the upside, her low-cut black top had taken on a skin-tight, soaking-wet, almost-transparent quality.  _ Not a terrible development. _

She could feel the two chromed-out gangers at the double doors staring lewdly as she approached and stopped. “Evening, boys. Let a lady through?”

The hulking one to the left, with the faceplate of 6 equally-spaced circles, chuckled crudely. “If there were a lady here, maybe we would. You see a lady, Matty?”

The other ganger, thin and reedy, sniggered. “Sure don’t, Cannon.”

V gave them a thin smile with no humor in it. “You’re not wrong.” She started to push past them through the double doors, and had almost done it, when the big one grabbed her around the upper arm and yanked roughly, catching her around the neck in a grip just shy of painful and twisting her limb behind her in a grip that  _ was  _ painful.

“Not so fast, you soft little thing. Real party’s out  _ here _ with us.” His breath wafted into her face, sour and hot. She barely stopped herself from gagging and didn’t dignify her captor with a response. Instead, she turned her attention to the clearly junior ganger, snapping the fingers of her free hand.

“Matty, your radio, if I may?” The brutes exchanged confused glances and she snapped again, holding her palm out expectantly. Cannon gave her captured arm another good yank as Matty slapped the walkie into her hand; she grimaced as she brought it to her mouth and hit the broadcast button. 

“Dum Dum, do you have two more idiots to cover the front doors? Because I’m about to hurt the ones you’ve got out here now.”

Some crackling, and a long silence. Too long. Matty started to snicker again. “Don’t know what—”

“ _ Nah, vicious, don’t do that. Only gonks here tonight with two brain cells to rub together.”  _ A pause, the chrome grin audible in the radio waves.  _ “Let her go, ass hats.” _

V shook herself loose violently as soon as she felt the ganger’s grip on her loosen, glaring at him. “Thanks, Dum Dum.”

_ “I’m in VIP, get up here already.” _

A sly smile at the two underlings, who were now gaping at her open-mouthed. “Yes, sir.” She tossed the radio back to the smaller man, who fumbled it from surprise before catching it. She pressed the doors open with her back, which freed her hands to flip two birds up at the goons as she disappeared into the red abyss that was Totentanz. “Later, boys.”

\---

V could feel Dum Dum’s optics on her before she even made it all the way down the stairs, sending a damp chill up her spine. It was humid and pulsing and busy in the club, but not like it had been when she was here last, on a weekend. The music was raucous but not insanity; the deep, throbbing bass vibrated soothingly under her feet. As she pushed to the bar, she realized it wasn’t just  _ his _ optics she felt on her; every red eye in the place seemed to be following her, piercing through the atmospheric haze, some more subtle than others. She could see whispers exchanged behind chrome hands, and more than a few lecherous stares. V wished she had kept the radio, but settled for the next best thing. He picked up on his holo after only one ping.

“Why is every single member of Maelstrom staring at me?”

“Because not a one can keep from flappin’ their fuckin’ gums ‘bout the fleshy ‘ganic merc with the sassy mouth.”

“Oh?”

“And because you can see your tits through your top. Now  _ get up here. _ ” The growl sent a lick of warmth low into her belly. She gestured to the bartender, and he poured her a generous three fingers of tequila into a tumbler.

“A girl can’t get a drink? I’m soaking wet and cold.” She was pushing her luck now, she knew it. The holo cut without a reply, and then she could see him, leaning over the balcony to stare at her as she sipped her drink with a deliberate, tantalizing slowness. The intensity of his gaze was so palpable that just his movement drew eyes to him, and as he crooked a finger at her, she felt them snap back to her with renewed interest.

V was sure she was imagining it, but she could have sworn the crowd parted for her as she made her way toward the staircase. The Maelstromers guarding the bottom certainly did; there was no repeat of the funny business at the front door. And so she climbed, a willing lamb to whatever slaughter Dum Dum had planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and constructive feedback always welcome! :D
> 
> Come on over to my Tumblr! It's cpthotsociety2077.tumblr.com, or tag your thirst with #cpthotsociety2077.
> 
> Many thanks to all the talented, lovely effin' people on the Afterlife and Cyberpunks Discord servers. It is nice to have poeple. :D


	10. Dum Dum's Hidden Talent Redux Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to this hot-ass mess! -shrug-
> 
> Suggested listening: "Scorpio," Pour Vous

Dum Dum was already back on the couch by the time V reached the top of the stairs, arm slung over the back like he was in charge of the whole place as he discussed something with another borg. _He probably_ was _in charge of the whole place_ , she realized with a tiny thrill. Slow night, no sign of Royce or Patricia, up here in VIP: it was his show tonight, and he had asked her, had _wanted_ her, to play a role. 

_You’re gonna need to figure out why that turns you on so fucking much._ She filed the thought away for later. She slunk quietly over to the empty spot next to him, still feeling the beady red spider eyes on her as she perched on the edge of the seat. A flick of her wrist sent the rest of her drink burning down her throat, the tumbler clanking down onto the table before her; only then did she allow herself to sink slowly backward into the cushion, wedging herself into the space next to Dum Dum.

It happened so naturally that anyone would have thought they’d done it dozens of times before instead of never: his arm dropped down and wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against his torso; her leg came up to cross over her body towards him, and she felt his other hand curl into the crook of her knee; her elbow replaced his on the couch, which meant she could settle her head against his, mouth close enough to murmur whatever she wanted for an audience of one. He had barely even looked at her as she’d moved in, but there was no missing the way his lips had pulled up on one side into a satisfied smirk. The borg he was talking to hadn’t missed it, either, stumbling over his last few words in his hurry to stand up and excuse himself. 

This was definitely different than the last time she had been here; Royce would have joytoys surrounding him in this space, wearing next-to-nothing and pretending to be smitten with whatever chrome-domes had fallen into his good graces that evening. She had seen some eager-looking groupies hanging around the stairwell, some borgs and some ‘ganic, giving her serious side-eye as she breached the guard barrier they hadn’t found a way past. They were pretty, waif-like things, all tits and ass with nowhere to stash iron on them, if they even knew how to use a piece. Dum Dum was clearly trying to send a different sort of message.

As soon as the ganger had stumbled out of the booth, Dum Dum's head whipped around and he pressed his face hard against her neck, inhaling deeply through her hair. “You smell good, vicious,” he rumbled against her skin, and that alone was almost enough to make V’s eyes roll back in her head. Before she could respond, the radio on his vest crackled. “Dum Dum, Edge has the update on the convoy recon.” His finger hovered over the button and she could see the question in it.

“Don’t let me interrupt.” It was her turn to breathe into his ear. 

“Send him up.” A cold, chrome hand worked its way under the damp material of her shirt, making her shiver before she felt a divine, low-level warmth radiating from the palm into her skin. _Huh. Built-in heating._

“Was he the one driving the car the other day?” She pulled her fingernails idly down the skin behind Dum Dum’s ear, and it was his turn to shiver.

“Yeah. You gonna be nice?”

"Probably not." She snickered at the same time he did. _T_ _his is gonna be preem._

It had been a hot minute since V had seen anything sweeter than the metal-mohawked borg’s shocked face as he crested the stairs to find his boss waiting with the “fleshy, ‘ganic merc with the sassy mouth'' curled around him like a cat. It took all of her willpower to keep an expression of board indifference schooled on her face. 

“Edge,” Dum Dum said by way of greeting, opting to nod toward the empty spot across from him rather than take his hands off of V. 

“Boss,” he offered in reply, coughing uncomfortably. It was hard to tell from the horizontal slant of his optics, but she was fairly certain he was staring at her, even as he sat down and rolled out a topographical map haphazardly on the low table. “This’s classified Maelstrom shit, you know that.” 

He jerked his head in V’s direction and she feigned surprise. “Oh, little old me?” She made a move to get up and didn’t even make it two inches before she felt Dum Dum’s hand curl higher on her thigh, pulling her back.

“She’s stayin’. Got a fuckin’ problem, got about five other gonks who want your job.” Edge was definitely starting at her now; no, he was _glaring_ at her. She arched an eyebrow at him, a clear “Well?” gesture.

He reluctantly started talking. “New route runs parallel to the city ring road, outside…” She quickly tuned out, her hair muffling his voice as she tucked her face into the crook of Dum Dum’s neck, placing a hot, open-mouthed kiss there experimentally. She felt him suck in a sharp breath and repeated the motion, laving her tongue along his skin before she closed her lips again.

“We’ll need more cargo room…” V felt Dum Dum’s distracted reply vibrate into her body, the twitches she was pulling out of him becoming more and more obvious. She felt the fingers against her back curl into cold, metal pressure points, and heard Edge cough again, possibly more uncomfortable than before.

She relented and tipped her face outward toward the conversation again; the map had been rolled up, business concluded. The mohawk made a move to stand and hesitated, his hands on his knees as he eyed her. She she saw his fingers twitch. “That’s some pretty preem meat you’ve got there, Dum Dum. Knew it when she was here the first time. You gonna…share when you’re done?”

His tone of voice made her head snap up fully, heated gaze meeting unforgiving optics. “Not mine to share, Edge; better back off now,” Dum Dum replied, a warning in his voice.

“Aw, c’mon, don’t be greedy.” Edge’s next words were predatory, lascivious, and downright stupid. “You’d look just as pretty draped over me, wouldn’t you, slut?”

“Fuck around and find out, asshole.” It was a level of petty she had only reached a time or two in her life, and V reveled in the thick tension that hung in the air just long enough that she thought the gonk might, in fact, find out. Dum Dum’s raspy chuckle cut through the air; she felt his mouth press against her jaw, chrome teeth scraping lightly over it as he defused the situation.

“She’d eat you alive, Edge. Get the fuck outta here,” he muttered, flicking his head in a clear gesture of dismissal. The junior borg shot up, bristling with arrogant indignation at being refused not just by the meathole but by his own brother in chrome arms. V couldn’t resist a condescending finger wiggle as he stomped away and disappeared down the stairs.

The top of the metal mohawk hadn’t even cleared the stairs before Dum Dum had hauled her—or she had climbed, hard to say—into his lap properly, twin moans of relief sounding as he ground his hips hard into hers, the pressure delicious and not nearly enough. He clawed at her, grabbing handfuls of soft skin wherever he could, peeling her damp top up over her stomach and chest, throwing it with a wet slap onto the couch beside them. He pawed at her breasts, dipping his head with the aim of taking a nipple between his lips when he suddenly stuttered to a stop, thumbs clicking over her new metallic adornments.

“These why you pinged me the other night, V?” His voice was barely audible above the throbbing beat of the music and throbbing pulse of the blood in her ears. He was staring, mesmerized, watching as the dusky peaks pebbled tight under his touch. She was twitching against his hands and whimpering. _Someone was gettin’ eaten alive, alright._

“Yeah, I just…” V’s eyes were screwed shut, her entire body being wound tighter and tighter with each brush of his fingers. “I thought…” She felt him grab her chin then, forcing her face to his, firm but not harsh. 

“Look at me.” She obeyed, eyes fluttering open to meet hazy pink optics, neither red nor white. “Thought what?”

 _Had she ever answered that question to her own satisfaction, even?_ No time like the present, topless in the lap of a senior Maelstrom borg in a gangbanger nightclub. “I thought you might appreciate a little more chrome.”

Dum Dum kissed her.

She wasn’t so far lost that the strangeness of it didn’t startle her a little—there was no vaporous lace switching lungs, they weren’t deep in the throes of passion. He still had her chin in his hand, but he wasn’t trapping her there, and _Christ_ , his lips were so soft. _How was something that soft even allowed on a chrome-dome’s face?_ His tongue swiped against her lower lip then, and V suddenly found she didn’t care about the answer.

He licked his way into her mouth, intent on discovering all her secrets with his tongue alone; she whined into his mouth and he swallowed up the sound like a fine liquor, his hands working at the button of her pants with the same fervor that she was wrestling the buckles of his tactical vest with.

It pained her to pull away, but she managed it only long enough to grit out “Get this fuckin’ thing _off!”_ before Dum Dum pushed her down onto empty cushions to their side roughly. She might have been pissed off if she weren’t so completely consumed by the static shooting electric between them and between her legs. 

He ripped his vest off with a feral growl and rose up on his knees, towering above her as he yanked roughly at her boots, tossing them aside and unbuttoning her pants, pushing them down and off of her with frustration that mirrored her own moments prior.

Optics or not, there was no mistaking the look on Dum Dum’s face as he slowly crawled up her body, scattered red beams from his eyes painting her with his lust. Her heart thudded in her chest in time with the music thrumming up through the floor, but she still managed to hear his quiet promise before his lips closed over hers again.

“Gonna show ya how much I ‘preciate it, vicious.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! :D Comments and constructive feedback always welcome.
> 
> Come hang out on Tumblr; it's cp2077thotsociety.tumblr.com, or tag your thirst with #cp2077thotsociety.
> 
> Thanks to the great folks on the Cyberpunks & Afterlife Discord servers. Y'all are my people.


	11. Dum Dum's Hidden Talent Redux Pt. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -Kermit flail gif-
> 
> Suggested listening: "Killing Strangers," Marilyn Manson

**“** Dum Dum—ah,  _ fuck— _ wait,” V pleaded, fingers scrabbling at his shoulders as he blazed a searing path of kisses down her torso. He either didn’t hear her or willfully ignored her, finally closing his mouth over a breast and hooking her shiny new piercing expertly with one of the two in his tongue, tugging sharply enough to coax a yelp from her. Her back arched up into the sensation and his palm caught her as it did, holding her flush. She was barely able to catch him by the ear as he went to repeat the motion on the other side, tugging his head upward. “I’m—”

He interrupted her again, lips crashing against hers sloppily, tongue surging against her own. It was like some strange dam had burst, the desire for this forbidden intimacy rushing out unrestricted. She couldn’t help but whimper into his mouth, which only seemed to spur him on. Their chests were heaving when she finally managed to pull away, wildly out of breath.

“I’m not…nearly…high or drunk enough…to be this…naked in…this club,” she panted out. No one could see them right now, sure, pressed against the cushions like they were, but this space was much more open than the dark corner he had tucked her away in before.

“You wanna be?” He growled it against her lips; she could feel him trembling with the effort to hold back. It was her turn to take his face in her hand then, unhooking one from around his neck to hold his chin firmly between her fingers, forcing his optics onto her eyes. They flickered slightly, as if they’d gone on auto-pilot while he was lost in tasting her.

“No. I want to feel all of you.” She nipped at his lower lip and felt him exhale a shuddering breath. “In private.”

A sudden rush of cold air breezed over her torso; Dum Dum had pushed himself up and off of her. There was no denying the impressive tent he had pitched in his canvas pants as he stood, scooping his vest and her boots up off the floor. “Get your shit and follow me.” She scrambled to follow, scooping up her shirt and pants as he walked just to the other side of the catwalk, pushing through a door with a large “NO ENTRY” sign printed on it. A long access hallway stuffed with extra glasses, bottles of alcohol, and speakers stretched before them. He didn’t lead her far, a fact for which she was grateful; it was one thing to be confident in your body, it was another to run around naked in Maelstrom territory. He jiggled the handle of a nondescript door and it opened with a creaky protest, revealing a supply closet of sorts. There were shelves packed with more barware and supplies, but in the opposite corner, there was a mattress on the floor. There was an overturned plastic crate next to it, a makeshift nightstand with some cans of water sitting in various states of consumption, and a small radio. There was a sheet on the mattress. It looked clean.

The domesticity of it surprised V so much that she just stood, gaping, until Dum Dum clicked his tongue at her impatiently and pulled her into the room, the door closing behind her with a satisfying, automatic latch of the lock. He set her boots down, throwing his vest over a chair she hadn’t noticed and motioning her to put her clothes there. She did so, wasting no time in crouching and crawling onto the mattress, head canted back over her shoulder to make sure the display was appreciated; her hand slid between her legs to tease him with his new view.

“Vicious…" It slipped lowly out of his mouth, a warning, a promise. He yanked the radio off of his vest and barked into it. “Joe, watch the top. I’ll be back.”

“Copy.” The radio clattered to the ground as he bent to make quick work of his own combat boots, tossing them away as he strode to the mattress, collapsing eagerly into it on his back next to her. 

“If you don’t put that preem pussy on my mouth right fuckin’ now…” the gravel of want in Dum Dum’s voice trailed into nothing as he tugged one of her thighs, then the other around his head and she sunk obediently onto his waiting tongue. He barely heard the moan she let out over the rush of his own blood, synth and not, in his own head. She was  _ so fucking soft _ , pliant and yielding as he pushed his mouth harder against her, licking long, wet stripes up the length of her and back down again. V whimpered above him, rocking downward harder as he dipped his tongue inside her; he’d never had real fruit, but he’d bet his life it didn’t taste as sweet as this. He replaced his tongue with two cool chrome fingers, and the choked groan she made when he slid them inside rattled down from his ears straight to his cock. Her fingers wound into the metal dreads on his head and yanked, taking her pleasure from him as he worked his mouth and hand against her. She wasn’t some pretty, empty-headed joytoy; she was unafraid, smart, dangerous,  _ vicious _ , and, right now, anyway, his to completely unmake. That was the preemest shit of all.

V was beyond recall; any memory she’d had of Dum Dum’s talented tongue paled in comparison to the sharp relief of the real thing, unblunted by lace. Her head had long since lolled back toward the ceiling, her mind wiped black from the wet, eager suck of his mouth on her. Her hips rocked shamelessly, chasing the release for the tension wound tight between her legs. The litany of curses falling from her mouth were nigh-unintelligible; she managed to stutter out “Dum Dum,  _ please,”  _ and felt a growl in response, fingers curling rough into the front of her walls, hooking in and scraping by in a way that made her see stars burst in her eyes as she came apart above him. 

He kept her there longer than he needed to, taking comfort in the shelter of her shaking thighs as greedily worked her past her release into hypersensitivity before letting her collapse next to him. She stared at him, wild-eyed and flush-faced, as he licked his fingers clean of her. She could look at him forever like that as far as he was concerned.

“You go that hard with all the pretty girls that get to ride that chrome smile?” V was teasing him now, allowing herself to be guided by the hand up the mattress, watching him press his back against the wall with his legs outstretched, reaching for his belt and working the buckle open with still-trembling fingers. 

“What makes ya think I’ve had any pretty girls anywhere near me, vicious?” He sucked a sharp breath as her hand closed over him, drawing him completely free of the fabric of his pants, stroking him slowly and firmly as she climbed into his lap. He was hot and impossibly hard underneath her grip, and she heard a quiet “ _fuck_ ” rumble out from his mouth when she twisted her wrist slightly. His hands were kneading bruises into the soft skin of her thighs.

“I saw that flock of inputs at the bottom of the stairs,” she teased, watching him twitch against her hand. “Shit, I  _ was _ part of the flock of inputs three weeks ago.” She pushed her hair off her shoulder to prove her point; a faint semi-circle of perforated pink skin, new and raw, from his bite. It had, in fact, scarred.

Dum Dum couldn’t stop himself from tracing a chrome finger over the flaw on her smooth, golden skin. It was  _ his _ mark on  _ her  _ body; that shit set him on fire. The finger trailed slowly up her neck and along her jaw before his palm turned upward just under her chin. “Nah, you weren’t. Spit.”

V held his gaze when she did, listening to the slick of her saliva over his silicone and skin as he smeared himself with it. 

“Fuckin’  _ sit _ .” She should have been embarrassed with how she scrambled to comply, but her eagerness overrode any shame. She rose on her knees, hooking an arm around Dum Dum’s shoulders before sinking down, squeezing her eyes shut against the exquisite sting of him stretching her open. The music from the club was a dull thump in the privacy of the closet; the loudest noise was their mingled breath as they both struggled to control themselves, chests pressed tight together by his arm around her. 

“Had ya in my sights since that gonk you shot up at the front door.” He pressed his mouth against her ear hard, matching the first press of his hips up against her. He wanted her to hear every fuckin’ word. “Haven’t touched another input since last time.” Another grind that left her whimpering, rocking against him to encourage him to move.

“You’ve fuckin’  _ ruined _ me, vicious.” 

V felt him drive home a true thrust then, the sensation wiping any coherent answer she may have been forming and replacing it with an overwhelming need for  _ more  _ of him. His lips moved from her ear to her neck, sucking a dark bruise into her skin as she set the pace; the snap of their hips together quickly rendered both of them panting, whiny messes, each at the mercy of their own white-hot desire.

She yanked his mouth up to her own and he responded eagerly, kissing her with the desperation of a thirsty man in the desert. He drank her up, aching for each drop, and she was certain she could  _ never _ get tired of being kissed like this. The throbbing in her core was getting harder to ignore, and she dropped the hand from his face down in between them; he swallowed her moan of delight when he released his grip on her back to curl his fingers over her own as she nudged herself up, up, up and over the ledge of a second climax, moaning his name into his mouth even as he grunted out praise into hers.

“So fuckin’ preem, vicious, so fuckin’ perfect—” Dum Dum fucked her through her spasms, the flutter of her clench around him too much when paired with the hot, wet heat of her tongue against his. He pulled away abruptly and let his head sink into the crook of her neck, crushing her to him with both arms as his orgasm tore through him. He groaned brokenly against her skin as his hips stuttered to a stop, emptying himself into her with hot pulses that bordered on painful.

She wasn’t sure how long they sat afterwards, him softening inside her gradually as her pounding heart slowed to what could be considered a normal pace. She would’ve been content to remain for hours more, but the crackle of static and tinny voices from Dum Dum’s radio broke both of their reveries. 

“—Joe, I’mma be up there—”

“—not a good idea—”

“—the  _ disrespect— _ ”

He lifted his face from her neck with what she was fairly certain was exasperation on his face. He shifted her off of him with reluctance, and she whined quietly at the loss of him inside her. She dutifully rose with shaky knees and grabbed her clothes; they dressed silently and he ushered V back into the hallway, following her.

He had his hand stretched over her, resting on the door that led back into the chaos that was Totentanz, when she suddenly spun, flattening her palm against his chest. “Wait.”

She felt the pause in his body and seized on it, pushing her mouth against his one final time, a litmus test for everything that had spilled out of him in the closet. He would be Dum Dum the Maelstrom gang leader as soon as that door opened and not…whatever he was right now. Or maybe he had already flipped the switch back.

But no; he returned the kiss with the blunted edge of sated desire. V could barely fight off the urge to dive in again as she pulled away. “Okay.”

“Yeah?”

She faced the door. “Yeah.”

The noise and red light flooded her senses as they stepped back into the club one after the other. It took longer than it should have for her to realize that the booth they had left not 30 minutes before was occupied now, by two sets of optics. One belonged to a bulky ganger she had passed on the stairs up here a lifetime ago. The other, cruel diagonal slashes beneath a metal mohawk, was Edge.

“Dum Dum, I told—"

“It’s alright, Joe.” She felt him pull her back a step, against his body as Edge stood up, a good head taller than them both. “The fuck’s your problem, choom?”

“You’re my fuckin’ problem!” Edge’s speech was slurred, and V could tell from the way he swayed that he was gonked out of his mind on something. Maybe multiple things. “Tellin’ me this meathole ‘smore important than I am! That ‘m replaceable!” His attention swung sloppily to her. “And YOU, fuckin’ snobby-ass chrome-chaser! Too good for me, eh? If I want ya, I’ll have ya!”

Edge stuck a hand the size of a bear paw out at her, grabbing her wrist and yanking her a few steps away from Dum Dum, but his grip was clammy and soft. V twisted her arm powerfully downward, breaking out of his grip and forcing his head down enough that she could plant the point of her elbow hard into his neck. He grunted in surprise; she wrenched his head over her knee by his mohawk and drove the bone up into his face with as much force as she could muster. She felt the bite of metal into her skin through her pants; she heard the crunch of optics and bone, and the angry howl he let out as she released him to crumple on the floor. It was only then that realized Joe was pointing his gun at her head, a stunned look on his face; she didn’t have time to raise her hands before Dum Dum had her again, his piece pointed directly at Joe.

“Guess you fucked around and found out, huh?” The thrill in Dum Dum’s voice was undeniable as he holstered his weapon with a chuckle. Joe did the same, albeit a little more suspiciously. V couldn’t keep a grin off her face as she turned her head toward him, stepping sideways out of his grip. She knew she wasn’t imaging the way his fingers lingered on her lower back. 

“Have a good evening, gentlemen. I will surely be seeing myself out now.” Her feet pounded down the stairs, across the club, and up again, bursting through the double doors with force enough to startle her friends from earlier. She didn’t listen to them as she slid to a stop in the elevator, mashing the DOWN button.

She hadn’t even hit the ground floor before her phone pinged.

**[DUMx2 01:13 AM]:**

_ night, vicious _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and feedback always welcome! :D
> 
> Thank you to @TinMunky and @EurodynesAss for letting me yell at you about stuff! Thanks also to all the lovely gonks on the [Cyberpunks ](https://discord.gg/Sg7fhUPW) and [Afterlife ](https://discord.gg/V27sGrh5) Discord servers. Y'all are my jam.
> 
> Come hang out on Tumblr! It's CP2077THOTSociety.tumblr.com, or tag your thirst with #CP2077thotsociety.


	12. Johnny's Secret Weapon Redux Pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's an ickle baby chapter!
> 
> Suggested listening: "Hurt Me Harder," Zolita

_ Ah, that green-eyed devil. Johnny knew it way too damn well, and wasn’t surprised to see it rear its ugly head just now.  _

_ She wasn’t supposed to be  _ kissing _ anyone. _

_ But there he was, in a shitty back hallway of Toetentanz, watching V locking lips with a chrome ganger from behind a tower of amplifiers. Her eyes were closed and Johnny could feel the earnestness in his own chest.  _ Fuckin’ gross. _ He’s glad the blockers had held out as long as they had; if they’d spent the whole time necking like teenagers, he’s pretty sure he would’ve tried to jack out the chip again out of spite. _

_ The door swung open and he glitched away. _

\---

“Johnny?”

No response.

_ Huh. Blockers should be worn out by now. Weird. _ V wasted no time stripping down once the door to her apartment slid closed and locked; she definitely wasn’t as wrecked as she had been the last time she stumbled home from a hook-up with Dum Dum, but a long day that ends in a good fuck would tucker out anyone. She manages to brush her teeth this time and everything, catching a glimpse of the mark that the borg had sucked into her neck and whistling quietly. It was the size of a silver dollar, so deeply purple it almost looked black. She gave it a little poke with her finger and winced a little at the tenderness.

“Sweet-lookin’ bite you got there, kitten.” Johnny was on the sink in front of her suddenly, feet dangling off the edge, boot-free. His vest was missing and so were his pants, leaving him in a tank top and boxers. If she didn’t know he had no need for sleep, she would’ve thought he was in his pajamas—if pajamas also involved chain smoking ghost cigarettes.

“Yeah? He’s given better.” 

“So have I.” An obnoxious eyebrow waggle.

V snorted. “Not to me, you haven’t.”

He was already waiting on the bed by the time she rounded the corner and flipped out the lights, lounging with one leg bent and his elbow bent to prop up his head. He patted the mattress next to him invitingly. “That's a challenge, doll?”

She couldn’t stop her eyes from rolling but crawled up onto the mattress next to him nonetheless, stretching out on her side to face him. “Not tonight, it’s not.” Her eyelids were already sinking closed, the pull of sleep strong on her exhausted body.

“So how’d it go, anyway?” Johnny did his best to keep his tone casual. His fingers trailed along the line of her thighs, working their way slowly up from her knee along her side, and he saw a shiver shoot through her body. He hadn’t completely lost his appeal, then. That was something.

“Hmmm…” The sleepy, throaty noise was muffled against her pillow. “‘S good. His mouth… fuckin’ preem.”

Johnny insides twisted a little bit.  _ Christ, get it together, Silverhand. _ He had agreed to this—encouraged it, even.  _ So why did it piss him off so much?  _ He scooted closer, lifting V’s head into the space between his neck and his shoulder under the guise of giving her a pillow; she mumbled something but nuzzled in immediately. He worked a thigh in between hers and she hitched her own higher around his hip without prompting. The give and take was seamless, one knowing how to answer the other before the question was finished. 

“Yeah? I believe it.” His fingers brushed her hair back from her face delicately. The whole situation was sweet, tender. He could just let her drift off to sleep. 

_ Nah. _

His lips brushed against her ear, the menace in his voice unmistakable even at a murmur. “Is he a good kisser?”

No response, but he felt her body tense slightly; she had been ripped from the edge of slumber from his words. He closed his teeth down on her earlobe, squeezing slowly harder until she yelped. “Ow! Johnny! The fuck?”

“Answer.” He tugged slightly, making her hiss through her teeth. 

“Yes! What does that matter?!” V’s head whipped back out of the pillow of his arm as soon as he released her ear, eyes squinted in a glare he could feel more than see.

The hand that had been crawling up her side closed around her throat. “Because that shit is  _ mine _ , kitten.” 

His lips crashed onto hers before she had a chance to even draw a breath to reply. It was not soft, or sensual; it was an all-out assault on her senses. His tongue pushed roughly into her mouth, vying for space with her own; their teeth clicked together uncomfortably. She whimpered against him, his mouth closing onto her lower lip and sucking; she felt his teeth pinching on soft, sensitive flesh for the second time in as many minutes. His thigh had worked its way up flush against her core, pressing hard against her still-sensitive flesh. The siege on her was relentless; it was only when she worked her hands up against his chest and pushed firmly that they separated, his hand still wrapped around her throat.

V wanted desperately to have some snarky retort to whip at him, but all she had to give were harsh, ragged breaths and staring eyes, pupils dark with arousal. She swore she could feel Johnny’s hot exhalations on her face; she could definitely feel his erection pressing into her hip. 

“Johnny—”

“Ah! Don’t.” His tone left no room for argument. “I don’t care if you want to fuck a borg, I don’t care if he gives the best head in all fuckin’ Night City, I don’t care if he wants to make you his fuckin’ gangbanger queen. If you want a kiss, there’s only one place you fuckin’ come. Are we clear?”

For how well he knew her, V was amazed at how stupid Johnny was sometimes. As far back as her memories went, the quickest way to get her to do something was always to tell her she  _ couldn’t. Didn’t he know that by now? _

He was looking at her expectantly, even through the haze of desire in his eyes. She felt the cold metal of his hand on her throat tighten just slightly, like he could squeeze her acquiescence out of her.

“As long as this tongue is my own, Johnny Silverhand, I will stick it in whoever’s mouth I damn well please. Yours, Dum Dum’s, Goro’s, fuckin’ Rouge’s—” She was picking out people specifically to needle him now. “Joytoys, gangers, nomads,  _ whoever _ . If you’re trying to lay some sort of  _ claim _ to me, beyond the fact that you are  _ actually eating my brain _ , you’re gonna need to be more convincing than that.”

V wrapped a hand around his wrist and tore it away from her throat, using the surprise to leverage her legs out of his. She felt the brush of his hand on her back as he grabbed at her while she sprung from the bed and stalked into the bathroom for her blessed bottle of blue pills. 

She had already gotten one into her mouth by the time Johnny glitched in. “Whoa, V—”

In the cruel fluorescent light of the vanity mirror, they could fully take in the rainbow of emotions splattered on both of their faces: surprise, anger, hurt, lust, confusion, jealousy. She splashed a handful of water into her mouth, swallowing the blocker.

“Are we clear?” The question mocked his earlier inquiry; he didn’t get a chance to answer before he flickered away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and feedback always welcome! :D
> 
> Come hang out on [Tumblr](https://cp2077thotsociety.tumblr.com/)! Tag your thirst with #cp2077thotsociety.
> 
> Thanks to the lovely people on the [Afterlife](https://discord.gg/JsvPcwUX) and [Cyberpunks](https://discord.gg/WXuMwV6u) Discord servers. Y'all are the tits.


	13. Johnny's Secret Weapon Redux Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Featuring the CP2077 equivalent of "Is that a banana in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?"
> 
> Suggested listening: "Gravedigger", MXMS

_ Their fight had not stopped them from fucking. Oh, no. _

_ V could not remember another time in her life where her partner—or whatever you would call a digital brain parasite you banged on the regular—had been more voracious. She would wake up with Johnny’s head between her legs and sometimes pass out at night the same way. There wasn’t an elevator she’d used in the last 72 hours that she hadn’t been groped in. He’d thrown her up against the armory bench, taking her so fiercely she was afraid the force might trigger a grenade and the last thing she would know is the hot, white light of ecstasy and destruction. _

_ He had not tried to kiss her again. It had looked like he wanted to, once or twice; she could feel the compulsion as if it were her own—it  _ was _ her own in a way, she supposed. His lips always seemed to swerve to her neck, her chest, her shoulder instead. It was the exact opposite of what she had expected, and that pissed her off. The mesh separating their consciousnesses grew thinner and thinner by the day, by the hour; why was this so difficult? _

\---

The midday sun beat down onto V without remorse; beads of sweat rolled down over the slope of her shoulder blades, pressed up from her elbows supporting herself and her sniper rifle. The rough tar roof bit into her stomach. She tried to blow a hair away from her forehead and found it was plastered there with moisture, only to feel it lifted and tucked behind her ear a second later.

“Thanks, Johnny.”

“Sure thing, kitten. You look hot,” there was a smirk in his voice. “And like you’re warm.”

She huffed out an amused breath, but didn’t reply. Her eyes were settled in the scope, focused on a parking lot about 500 feet away from the building she had scaled. The job was simple: Maelstrom was buying something from a crooked corpo, and someone else wanted it more. Additional security on both sides would be moderate but not unmanageable. Take them out, take the shit. Easy.

Maelstrom rolled up first, raucous and not at all subtle. The doors swung open and gangers tumbled out like murderous clowns from a terrifying car. One, two, three, four. She squinted, but didn’t recognize any of the faceplate patterns.  _ Shame. _ She wouldn’t mind seeing Edge’s face post-knee. 

“Eyes up, V.” Two sleek black SUVs were approaching the lot from a way off. She tracked them on the street for a bit, but when she checked back on the lot, another body had appeared from the cars.

“Mother _ fucker, _ ” she spat out. 

“Well, look at that.” She was so grateful that she couldn’t see Johnny; she could picture his cocky stance and shit-eating grin clearly enough on her own. “What’s a girl to do?”

It was a valid question. She pulled her eye away from the scope long enough to ping Dum Dum’s holo and then pressed her face back in to see his miniature form pause in its step, and then continue. The call disconnected.

V yanked the rifle back off the ledge in annoyance, sitting back on her heels. She wasn’t just going to shoot him, but damn, did she need these eddies. She had  _ just  _ enough time to sprint over and try to klep it, but she didn’t like 5-on-1 odds.  _ Fuck fuck fuck. _

She stood, tucking the rifle against the inner edge of the roof and hustling toward the stairs, grunting in annoyance when she saw Johnny flicker into the door frame. His mouth opened but she cut him off.

“Not a fuckin’ word, you.” Her feet pounded down the stairs toward the highest floor with an elevator, rustling around in her pocket for the spare stun mods she kept there for cyberpsychos. She yanked one out and hurriedly slotted it into her pistol, then her fingers tapped out a message onto her phone as the elevator lumbered downwards.

**V [02:24 PM]:**

_ Don’t give that trash your eddies. Sorry in advance. _

She really hoped her rifle would be there when she got back.

\---

_ Three down, two to go. _ Problem was the two were now on high alert. Another problem was that one of them was her…whatever.

A well-placed contagion hack from behind a dumpster near the gate had taken three Malestromers down in quick succession, but there was no time to sneak by the fence and finish the job before the black SUVs were rolling into the parking lot. 

She heard the metallic rumbling of a gate being lifted, the warehouse behind her suddenly opening its steel maw for the SUVs to pull slowly inside. Dum Dum and his companion started to follow.  _ Shit. Shit shit shit. _

V crouched, darting forward to conceal herself behind a Maelstrom car once their backs had turned. She squinted through the windows and could see that Dum Dum only had his revolver, but the other ganger was armed to the teeth: assault rifle, handgun, and several grenades of varying lethality.

“Geez, do they always do business that way? Not a great first impression,” Johnny offered unhelpfully, perched brazenly on the car hood in full sight (her full sight, anyway). She shot him a withering glare, watching the gangers and the four men that had exited the SUVs—two from each—drifted further from the entrance toward a room in the back. She seized the moment and snuck into the warehouse proper, using the wide body of the cars as cover.

Her optics scanned the area and she pinged a nearby floodlight; a second later, six bodies illuminated themselves in red, all in what seemed to be some sort of control room, narrow but long. There were two panes of bulletproof glass across the majority of the wall and only one door—but there! Her scanner highlighted the metal window cover at the far end of the room, and she covered the distance silently. She wiggled the handle— _ open _ —and slid the blinds up as quietly possible, gripping them hard to muffle any rattle. The line of sight to the end of the room where all the men were gathered was mostly clear; she had shots on three of the four corpos and the spare Maelstromer.

V sucked in a breath, exhaling slowly as she raised her arms to aim. The ring of her scope flickered orange to indicate a what-would-normally-be-a-kill shot on one of the suits. Time ran slower as her finger gently squeezed the trigger, finessing it.

One two.

Three four.

Five six.

Seven eight.

Her body shot downward, making herself small as she heard the surprised, pained groans of the men being shocked into a stupor and then the dull thumps of their bodies hitting the floor. She sucked in a breath and held it, slowing her heart—another thump.

_ What? _

“ _ V.” _ Johnny whispered even though he didn’t need to.  _ “That was the other suit. Can see ‘im. Wasn’t stunned.” _

_ Shit fuck shit. _

She had gotten one leg over the ledge when she felt the cold steel against her head. "Drop it, vicious."

Her neck angled just enough to see Dum Dum’s glowing red optics; she pulled herself back out of the office before he nudged her, harder this time, with his revolver. “Drop. It.” 

She raised her hands slowly, spreading them out and setting her pistol down on the nearest crate. He let her turn to face him then, one side of his mouth tweaked up into a satisfied, predatory grin.  _ Christ, that should not be as hot as it is. _

Johnny groaned. “ _ Fuckin’ really, V?”  _ She didn’t bother to reply; the answer became abundantly clear between her legs as Dum Dum stepped into her space, dragging the muzzle of his gun down her neck to rest on her collarbone, pointed menacingly upward.

“Ya miss me, hm? A call, a text, a visit?” 

She was fighting so hard to keep a grin off her lips. “You’re doing your job; I’m doing mine.”

“Not very fuckin’ well.”

“Tell that to your eight other associates in the parking lot and the office.”

“Hm.” She could tell he liked that; she saw his optics flicker thoughtfully. She pressed her advantage.

“Little private show for you, Dum Dum. Your part-time output dropping gonks left, right, and center.” She arched a suggestive eyebrow, clearly gesturing to her abandoned pistol before lowering one of her hands slowly, inching across the space between them until her fingertips brushed the rough weave of his belt. His gun hadn’t moved from her chest, but she felt the laxness in the arm holding it; his finger had drifted far from the trigger, and he was watching her face far too intently to be considering violence.  _ Maybe. _

“Is that whatcha are, vicious?” V’s heart was thundering in her chest, and she didn’t think being at gunpoint was all of it. 

The motion was quick and sharp: she tugged at his waistband and he jerked forward against her. Her other hand flew up, knocking his gun away. It clattered to the floor. Dum Dum didn’t even flinch; his hands had flown to her ass like he had been just waiting for an excuse. 

_ “Focus, you gonk.”  _ Her fairy god-Johnny sounded irritated by this latest development, but was trying to bite his tongue; she could feel the tension he was holding back in her own throat. She was focused, all right: focused on the press of the borg’s hips against her own, his fingers digging into her soft flesh, his breath ghosting hot out of his mouth onto hers.  _ When had he gotten so close?  _ She didn’t know and didn’t care.

“Either that’s another firearm in your pocket, or that’s what you want me to be.” She murmured the words against his lips, and then she was being devoured like she was the only thing he’d get to eat all day. The intensity of it nearly knocked the wind out of her; the thrill set her nerves ablaze. If he wanted to swallow her whole she would let him, if it meant always feeling like this.

_ “Fuckin’ hell, V!”  _ The engram voice was tiny and distant in her brain, the sound of it not nearly powerful enough to best Dum Dum’s fingers, which were now fumbling with the button on her pants. 

The quiet groan of someone fighting unconsciousness from the other end of the office was, though. Both of their bodies froze, his hand past her zipper already. She heaved a disappointed sigh, pulling his wrist out of her pants and her mouth away from his.  _ To business, then. _ “I need what you’re buying from the suits.”

“Fat fuckin’ chance.”

“That’s the gig. Made the transfer yet?”

She buttoned her fly while he adjusted himself, stooping to pick up his gun. “Nah, needed to check the merch.”

She grabbed her pistol and wedged it into the back of her jeans. “Great. Maelstrom’s not out any eddies, you tell Royce a super-smokin’ merc klepped the goods from the corpos, I give you 10% of my pay from the gig and the best blowjob you’ve ever had in your life next time I see you.” 

V winked at him for good measure, but she was getting better at reading Dum Dum’s expressions, despite the poker-faced optics; the blank space of his brows were slightly furrowed, lips taut. He was sold, and really didn’t want to admit it.

“I’m gonna see if there are cameras to wipe and get the goods. You better get your chooms back in the car.” It was a graceful out for him, and she pressed a kiss on his chrome-speckled cheek before swinging through the window like she had planned so many bizarre minutes ago.

By the time she had scrubbed the cam feeds, grabbed the briefcase in question, and swung back out the window, Dum Dum was gone. She caught a glimpse of him shoving some legs into a backseat as she slunk away.

\---

“I just don’t get it, kitten—”

“Do you need to?”

“—I want you to get your kicks—”

“As long as they’re with you, you mean.”

“—but that Terminator makes you feel gonked af—”

“What’s a Terminator, old man Silverhand?”

“—it’s all fluttery and shit—”

“He makes me feel  _ alive,  _ Johnny!” V slammed the door closed on the drop point cubby, the case rattling in the metal bin. Two seconds later, the call from Regina comes. The conversation is short; V knows she will probably talk to her again tomorrow, if not later this evening.

She turns to find the rockerboy leaning against the building in the way only he can, studying her with an inscrutable expression through a cloud of digital smoke. She reached into her jacket pocket for a cigarette of her own; he didn’t have to ask anymore; the craving had weaseled its way into her all on its own. The lighter flared.  _ Inhale. _ The smoke filled her lungs. Johnny didn’t say anything, but she could feel his pleasure at the taste of it.  _ Exhale.  _

She spoke first, mimicking his stance on the wall next to him; confessions flowed easier without the dam of eye contact.  _ Inhale. _ “I know it’s fuckin’ stupid, okay? I don’t have much time left before “me” is gone, and I shouldn’t be wasting it on cyber dick.”  _ Exhale. “ _ And Johnny, this—” The butt of the cigarette drew a red line in the air between them.  _ Inhale.  _ “—is fuckin’ preem, but it’s also poison.”  _ Exhale. _ “You’re my person, as gonk as that sounds, but…”

Her voice breaks on the last syllable, and she pauses, sucking in a heavy lungful of smoke and willing the tears out of her eyes.  _ Inhale. _ “… you’re a walking, talking preview of my grave. And Dum Dum isn’t.”  _ Exhale. _

Johnny didn’t say anything. There was a time when he would have cut her off, told her to not think about those things, but now the silence stretched on between them as she stubbed the cigarette out on the pavement. She didn’t look at him, couldn’t, as she shifted the strap of the her retrieved rifle on her shoulder; she wouldn’t survive it if he had his aviators off to let his dark gaze pierce her soul. Not right now.

“C’mon, I want to stop by the market before I head home.”

“Okay, kitten.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and feedback always welcome. :D
> 
> Come hang out on [Tumblr](http://cp2077thotsociety.tumblr.com)! Tag your thirst #cp2077thotsociety.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who let me yell at them about this, especially @postmodernsleaze and @voilete. Also thanks to the lovely folks on the Cyberpunks, Afterlife, and Lizzie's Discord servers. Y'all are the tits.


	14. Johnny's Secret Weapon Redux Pt. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This might hurt a little. Believe me when I say I had no idea it was going there.
> 
> [Suggested Listening: "Killing Me Softly," Dean Heckel](https://youtu.be/2mho7RuRJxA)
> 
> (If this isn't available in your country, I would recommend the Fugees version as an alternative.)

“V! Check this out!”

“Hey, Karim.” She hadn’t planned on stopping by the surly music vendor’s booth—get in, get noodles, get out had been the plan—but the man looked so genuinely excited that she slowed down, her eyes following his pointing hand to the merch wall behind him. She let out a low whistle.

Johnny glitched into existence inside the vendor booth, face pressed up close to what seemed to be an excellent replica of his electric guitar, right down to the worn lacquer on the body and the peeling sticker edges. “It’s a damn good fake, kitten. Self-amplified. Wish that had existed back then.”

“Where’d you get a hold of that, Karim? It’s nova.” This wasn’t how she’d planned on spending the money she had literally just earned from the nearly-botched Maelstrom gig, but she saw the inevitability of it clear as day. Johnny’s arm was stretched up the neck, trying to touch it without success. The sigh he let out was laden with so much genuine wistfulness that V felt the pain in her own chest.

“I can’t tell you all my secrets,” Karim chided. “I’ll go outta business.”

“Not with how many eddies you’re gonna make on that thing. How much are you asking?”

“5 thou.” It was enough to make Johnny whip his face around to her, looking at the vendor incredulously.

“Shit, that’s steep and it’s my own fuckin’ axe,” he muttered. V didn’t pay him any mind.

“How about 4500 for your best and prettiest customer?”

Karim chuckled with curmudgeonly affection. “Sure, kid.” 

“V, don’t; you can’t even fuckin’ play—”

_ “Hush, Johnny.”  _ She extended her hand toward the vendor, the blue glow of optics confirming the monetary transfer. “I gotta drop my iron and my dinner at my apartment, and then I’ll come back for it, okay?”

The vendor was already gingerly lifting the guitar from its display pegs. “Yeah, I’ll hold it for ya.”

“Thanks, Karim.”

\---

V’s dinner had been cold by the time she’d gotten back from the market for the second time, guitar slung over her back. Johnny had been sneaking glances at her as they walked; he had nonchalantly slotted his hand into hers as they left the market. It was bizarre. She liked it.

And now they were sitting on the couch, her tummy stuffed and her hair braided back out of her face, the cold wood of the guitar pressing onto her bare thigh as she balanced it awkwardly. Assault rifles and machine guns? No problem. A musical instrument? She may as well have been back in that garbage heap for all the control she had.

“Now, your ring finger on the third fret, second string—”

“Johnny, my hand doesn’t bend that way. That’s some unnatural shit.”

He was sitting on the round table in front of her, elbows planted on his knees as he leaned in intently, trying to make her understand, flickering with the effort. His aviators were gone and his eyes were burning a hole into the neck of the guitar where she was holding it. He was making her brain buzz, but she couldn’t keep the soft smile off her face as she watched him concentrate. 

“Yes, it does, you just gotta hold your wrist differently.” He flexed his own, but it looked to V like he was disconnecting his hand from his body. She shuddered and he looked at her, amusement in his voice. “You literally murder people for money and a little flexibility gets you gonked?”

A shrug. “It’s different if you can see the inside.”

It was his turn to blanche as she strummed out a sour chord, her fingers obviously not in the right place for harmony. “Mercs are fuckin’ weird.” He tried to grab the body of the guitar to straighten it, and V felt that sad twinge in her heart when his hand went right through. 

Then she was setting the instrument aside and standing, headed to the bathroom. Johnny was still sitting across from the ghost of his past, trying to reconcile it with his present.

“What’re ya doin’, kitten?” He heard a bottle of pills rattle, and tiny, distinct snaps. The sink turned on and flipped off again.

She reemerged, purpose written on her face as she sat back down on the couch. Pushing the sleeves of her sweatshirt up to her elbows, she patted the cushion next to her. “Come over here,” she instructed, and he was next to her instantly, watching with curiosity as she picked up the guitar again. He felt the press of her thigh and torso against him as she balanced the instrument as close to him as she could, arms stretched so he was more behind it than she was.

“Put your hands in mine.”

“I don’t think that’s gonna fly…” his words trailed off as his fingers closed around her own.

“I took a quarter of a  pseudoendotrizine,” she informed him. “Put your hands  _ in  _ mine, Johnny.”

V wasn’t sure that it would work; it was definitely off-label use of the stuff, at any rate. She took a shaky breath, feeling him draw it in at the same time—the pill was definitely doing  _ something _ —and then her hands were tingling fiercely as Johnny’s disappeared into them.

“Whoa,” he said breathily, looking at where their arms diverged, pink and soft from blue and transparent. Then V felt her fingers move without prompting, curling around the neck of the guitar like she had been born with it in her hand. A moment later and they both watched in anxious disbelief as the first chords of “Never Fade Away” echoed perfectly into the apartment.

Johnny was looking right at her when she looked up, even as his phantom fingers continued to pluck at the strings. His deep brown eyes swam with emotions and she could feel every one, swallowing thickly against the press of them. When he spoke, it was quiet and sincere. “Thank you, Vi.”

She drew in a surprised breath; she had never heard him say thank you in such a sincere way, and definitely not with the nickname no one had called her since before she came to the city. The sound of it tightened a clamp around her heart.

Looking at him was suddenly too hard, so she refocused her attention on her fingers, piloted by his phantom expertise. “Of course, Johnny.” She schooled a smile onto her face before looking up again. “Now are you gonna shred or what, samurai?”

The grin that lit up his face twisted the clamp tighter. “Hold on, kitten.”

She could not have possibly anticipated what the next 30 minutes of her life would be like; Johnny, for all of his morose and radical ideologies, was a musician of the highest caliber first. They blistered through “Black Dog,” “A Like Supreme,” “The Ballad of Buck Reavers,” “Chippin’ In,” (she had badgered him enough that he even indulged her with a bit of Kerry’s version), “Never Fade Away,” and other songs she didn’t recognize.

Johnny hummed some of the lyrics, muttered others under his breath, belted out still others yet, loud and growly and unbearably sexy; the sounds moved through the air into her ear and straight to the smoldering fire straight in her lower abdomen. V could feel her skin flushing pink, hot from holding the awkward stretch and her emotions.

The tips of her fingers were growing more tender by the second; the press of the strings was becoming sharper as time went on. She set her jaw against her discomfort, but it was only moments later that dissonant notes rang out, taking them both by surprise.

“Sorry,” she apologized quickly. “I can feel it more. I think the pill is wearing off.”

She felt his disappointment, and something else—something heavy underneath, blanketed by his chagrin. She squinted at his face, but Johnny was unreadable. He seemed worked up—eyes wide, strands of hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, chest rising and falling faster than normal.

When he did speak, the words were almost more surprising than the medical miracle that was them cohabitating a body and rocking out. “I forgot what…this…felt like.” A pause. “Feels like being alive.” He definitely hadn’t chosen those words accidentally. She flexed her fingers and felt some resistance now, the joints working hard to move, like they had glue in them. 

“Got one more in ya? It’s not as wild as all that we just did.” A smile tugged at the corner of his lips; she returned it without thinking, nodding her assent.

She didn’t recognize the tune he started plucking out, strumming softly, chucking the strings for a little backbeat. It was melodic, almost contemplative. When he opened his mouth to sing, his raspy tenor was the sound of too many smokes and bottled-up feelings.

_ “I heard he sang a good song, I heard he he had a style _

_ And so I came to see him, to listen for a while _

_ And there he was, this young boy, a stranger to my eyes _

_ Strummin’ my pain with his fingers _

_ Singin’ my life with his words _

_ Killin’ me softly with his song, killing me softly with his song _

_ Tellin’ my whole life with his words _

_ Killin’ me softly with his song…” _

V’s fingers hurt more by the moment, the tightness of two sets of hands in one plane of existence ever more present, but  _ Christ,  _ she didn’t want him to stop. Johnny Silverhand wasn’t a guy that apologized; he lived big, loud, and mean before he went out in a flare of light and anger. Sure, he might say “sorry” every now and again, and maybe even mean it—but prostrating himself, acknowledging being an asshole, making an earnest plea, offering recompense? Never.

And yet here they were, and he was doing just that. She wasn’t sure when the tears had started spilling down her cheeks.

_ “I felt all flushed with fever, embarrassed by the crowd _

_ I felt he’d found my letters and read each one out loud _

_ I prayed that he would finish, but he just kept right on _

_ Strummin’ my pain with his fingers _

_ Singin’ my life with his words _

_ Killin’ me softly with his song, killing me softly with his song _

_ Tellin’ my whole life with his words _

_ Killin’ me softly with his song…” _

The silence that hung between them as the last notes reverberated through the apartment was louder than any music they’d made on the guitar. Her face was wet from crying and not being able to wipe the tears away. The look on his face bordered on pain: brows gathered, lips pressed together in a thin, hard line. “V—"

Whatever Johnny was going to say was cut off by a flare of pain through her hands, sharp enough that they both winced. She grimaced, eyes shut tight. “You’ve gotta let go, Johnny.”

Another searing tingle shot through her, and she heard him grunt softly. The guitar became heavier in her hands, and she opened her eyes to see that her arms were once again hers alone. She laid the instrument down across the coffee table, barely getting the chance to turn before Johnny had snatched her face up between his hands, pressing his forehead to her own. His thumbs smoothed over the tracks of her tears; she brought a hand up to cover his automatically.

“Vi, I…you were right.”

“I know. Do you get it now?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” He couldn’t see the soft smile on her face, but it was there all the same. “Kiss me, then.” 

He did and nearly broke her all over again. It was tender, thorough, sweeter than she ever suspected he could be, and she thought her heart might explode from her chest as he guided her into his lap. She wasted no time tangling her fingers into his hair, swallowing the hungry noise that snuck out of his mouth as their lips opened for one another. His hands clamped onto her hips, pushing her center against his own and holding her there, their impatient shifting creating an unbearable friction. V whined, unable to separate herself from him but for short, shallow sips of air and bursts of words. “Johnny—I need—you—inside me—” It was only then that he let her go so she could shimmy out of her shorts and panties, not bothering with her top and barely giving him enough time to work himself free of his pants. His vest and tank top had vanished into nothingness; she felt him suck in a sharp breath as she closed a hand around his length, already hard and throbbing in her grip. Her desperation for him was making her frantic, climbing back onto him and sinking down without so much as a warm-up.

“ _ Fuck, _ kitten,” he muttered against her shoulder, gripping the back of her neck while she winced at the sting of being stretched open too soon. His other hand rocked her gently as she worked him into her, easing the process how he could.

V panted brokenly as she finally settled into his lap again, filled to the point of bursting. Everything was electric blue static, pulsing in her veins and in her mind. “Johnny, this is  _ perfect,”  _ she whimpered. 

“You’re perfect, Vi.” It was reverent. He continued to cradle her head, encouraging her to move with a twitch of his hips. She did, pulling fractured groans from them both as she rocked slowly. It was more than pleasure, it was more than eagerness; it was cosmic alignment, it was belonging. It was home.

She could feel the streaks of pleasure with each push of his hips up to meet her. His metal arm had dropped to wrap around her ribcage, crushing them together, as if she would disappear if he didn’t cling to her, a drowning man in an ocean of desperation. This wasn’t going to last very long. V felt his hand on her hip let go, and then he pulled his mouth away from hers, licking his thumb before he dropped his hand between their bodies to rub at her sensitive nub, encouraging her along.

The first touch was enough to drag a moan from deep in her throat, her intense rhythm becoming erratic with the firm pressure from his digit. She chased the friction, spiraling upward quickly. “Johnny, I—”

“Lemme give you this, kitten,” he murmured, their foreheads pressed together once more. “Don’t wanna take from ya any more.” She could barely focus on him, eyes glazed and mouth slack-jawed as the build-up rose to critical mass. “Come on, Vi.”

She obliged, tears spilling from her eyes afresh as the sensation washed over her in powerful waves. She only knew pleasure and the anchor of his arm around her; distantly, she felt his hips stutter and press up harshly, and she was aware of his strained groan as he lost himself inside her.

“… shhh, kitten, shhh,” The soothing sounds he was making muffled the choked sobs that were still squeezing from her as she settled back into her body. She became aware of his hand rubbing circles on her back, easing her shuddering shoulders; when she finally managed to pull her face away to look at him properly, he was kissing her cheeks, dabbing away her tears. 

The ridiculousness of the situation hit V full-on then, and a strangled laugh hiccupped out of her. “F-fuckin’ great, I’m now the groupie that cried all over the rockerboy.” He chuckled. It wasn’t mean. “That the weirdest fan girl bang ever, or what?”

“Nah, kitten, seen much weirder.” The kiss he placed at the corner of her mouth was, perhaps, even more intimate than the fact that he was still buried inside her. “But I’ve never had better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! :D Comments and feedback always welcome!
> 
> Come hang out on [Tumblr!](https://cp2077thotsociety.tumblr.com/) Tag your thirst with #cp2077thotsociety.
> 
> Thanks to my queen @TinMunky for being my first-ever beta; thanks also to the lovely people on the Cyberpunks, Afterlife, and Lizzie's Discord servers. You're all beautiful and I want to marry you.
> 
> This seems like a natural place to wrap this up. I may write something else related, but it will be its own separate piece. Let me know what you'd like to read below so I can marinate on your ideas! :D


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